Mess is Mine
by HucktheWombats
Summary: When Hermione flees Gryffindor tower during Ron and Lavender's snogging, another spontaneous kiss and a fake relationship leave Harry and Hermione wondering how much they're really pretending. Set during HPB. H/HR.
1. Chapter 1

Harry could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when he arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted his appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating him. What with trying to shake off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls that encircled him, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time before he could try and find Ron. At last, he extricated himself from Romilda Vane, who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him. As he was ducking toward the drinks table, be walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her should and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."

Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry."

She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, but then she walked off to help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.

Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking feeling, he thought he saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight.

He darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside seemed to be deserted.

"Hermione?"

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Harry could not help admiring her spellwork at a time like this.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah… they're – er – really good…" said Harry.

He had no idea what to say to her. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, that she had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when she said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er… does he?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it was he?"

Harry walked forward to sit next to Hermione on the teacher's desk, awkwardly turning to face her so that they're knees were touching and he was in the perfect position to see her avoiding his gaze.

Looking supremely interested in her shoes, Hermione asked quietly, "How does it feel, when you see Dean with Ginny?"

Surprised at this perceptiveness, though he supposed maybe he shouldn't be, Harry's instincts for denial kicked in. "Er… I don't know what you mean, Hermione," Harry said.

"I know," said Hermione. "I see the way you look at her."

Harry thought he heard Hermione sniff. If there was one thing Harry knew that he was not brave or talented enough to face, it was another crying girl. He awkwardly put his arm around her shoulders. "It feels like this," he said.

Hermione looked up and Harry was surprised at the look in her eyes. She appeared an odd mixture of contemplative, flustered, and sad, and a moment before her eyes fluttered shut he swore he saw them harden in determination. It was what happened next that was truly unexpected, for Hermione Granger, his best friend, had pressed her lips hesitantly against his in a truly perplexing and unforeseen kiss.

Perhaps even more perplexing was how a moment later it was Harry's hand tangled in her bushy mane of hair, and his other hand on her waist pulling her closer to him. In the foggy haze that was their ill-advised lip-locking, Harry could not help but think that Hermione's lips were very soft, and definitely not wet. Much later he would reflect that he did not think of Ginny at all.

In the next moment, however, when perhaps it might have begun to register in Harry's mind that he definitely should _not_ be kissing Hermione, the door behind them burst open. They sprang apart, and, to Harry's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender. "It looks like we're interrupting!" She winked at the both of them, and began to back out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.

There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione's eyes were wide in horror as she stared at Ron, who refused to look at her, or Harry for that matter. With an odd mixture of contempt and awkwardness, Ron said, "Wondered where you'd got to," before exiting the room after Lavender.

Harry turned himself back towards Hermione, who promptly burst into tears, and said through a sob, "Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!"

Harry, quite frankly, was stunned. In less than a minute it seemed that he had unintentionally and irreversible changed, and arguably not for the better, his friendships with both of his best friends. And he was left with a crying girl, which had been precisely what he had wanted to avoid that evening.

"Er… it's okay, Hermione," said Harry, in an entirely unhelpful attempt to placate her.

It was no use, however, for Hermione continued to sob. "Oh, Harry! No, it's not. I don't know what came over me! I was just so upset about Ronald, and you were here, and we both seemed unhappy, and I don't know why I did what I did! I didn't mean to, and now I've just ruined everything!" Here she paused to hiccup, at which point Harry wrapped his arms awkwardly around her shoulders in a tense hug. "He's going to be so mad!" said Hermione, though it was muffled as her head was buried in Harry's jumper.

And though Ron certainly had seemed mad, Harry certainly wanted Hermione to stop crying, so he said, "Well what grounds does he have to be angry if he was eating Lavender's face not five minutes before… well, er, you know…"

Hermione, thankfully, pulled away from Harry and wiped the corner of her eyes with her jumper, though she continued to sniff. "Well I suppose…" hiccup, "that he did start it…" said Hermione. "Oh, but Harry, you're his best friend!"

"Yes, well, er… we have had worse spats, I suppose."

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry that I've been so terrible to you lately," said Hermione, averting her eyes from the general direction Harry was in again. "With that bloody potions book and Malfoy and accusing you of spiking Ron's pumpkin juice this morning, I've been a right nightmare. And now this!"

"You don't have to apologize, Hermione…"

"No, I do. Even if I don't agree with you, I've been a terrible friend."

"Hermione," interrupted Harry, "you couldn't be a terrible friend if you tried."

Harry was not prepared for this simple absolution to cause Hermione to launch herself forward in what was a patented, bone-crushing, Hermione hug. Which resulted in them both tumbling off of the teacher's desk to the floor in an undignified heap. Harry found himself on top of Hermione, supporting himself on his elbows as not to add asphyxiation to the list of the day's mishaps. "Oh, Hermione, are you alright?" said Harry.

Hermione started to laugh, and as Harry rolled off of her to lie next to her on the cold stone floor of the deserted classroom, he began to laugh too. "This whole situation has spiraled out of control rather quickly, hasn't it?" Hermione gasped from beside him as her laughter subsided.

"It certainly has," Harry replied as he stood up, pulling Hermione to her feet after him.

"I'm sorry if I've made things terribly awkward. I can't even imagine what Ronald thinks we've been conspiring against him now," said Hermione fretfully, her laughter now thoroughly dissipated.

"Well, I don't suppose we'd be able to convince him that we aren't secretly dating now if we tried." Harry replied.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the next morning, when Harry and Ron were the only one's remaining in the sixth year boy's dormitory, as the rest had already departed for breakfast, that Harry would come to realize how difficult it was to convince Ron that there was nothing going on between him and Hermione.

"So just how long have you two been hiding that you're together? Were you just waiting for me to get a girlfriend so that you could throw it in my face?" Ron inquired in the quiet of the late Sunday morning.

"Ron, I don't even fancy Hermione, let alone call her my girlfriend." Harry replied in exasperation, as this was not the first passive aggressive comment of the morning. "I already told you, it was just one kiss. It didn't bloody mean anything!"

"I have eyes, you know! I'm not stupid, Harry. I know what I saw."

"No, you don't! I'm telling you what you saw and you're just not listening!"

"Look, Harry, I don't have time for a best mate that lies to me and Lavender is waiting for me at breakfast." Ron's face was steadily reddening to match his hair.

"Bloody hell, Ron! I'm not lying! I've never lied to you, why would I start now?"

"Why the bloody hell would I know what you and Hermione were thinking? I'm late." And with that Ron slammed the door and raced down the stairs, away from Harry and towards the Great Hall. Harry heard the muffled sounds of bickering, and then the slamming of the portrait door.

Harry gave an exasperated sigh before descending the stairs to the common room, where he unfortunately was met with the sight of a teary-eyed Hermione attempting, and failing, to read while sitting on one of the large couches. He sat heavily next to her, and, without looking up from her book, Hermione said, "He doesn't believe us."

"I know," Harry replied. "He's being a right git."

Hermione managed a small teary laugh.

"Breakfast?" Harry asked.

"I would, but I don't think it's exactly safe to dine at the same time as Ronald, currently," Hermione responded morosely.

"Then a trip to the kitchen it is," Harry replied in the brightest voice he could manage while rising to his feet. He reached out for Hermione's hand and pulled her off the couch after him. "Ladies first," Harry said, cutting in front of Hermione to exit the portrait hole. Hermione laughed.

The rest of their meals for the rest of that Sunday were a sordid affair, for Ron, when he wasn't glaring and making passive aggressive comments toward them, was actively ignoring them. This continued for the rest of the week, and every time they missed a meal in the dining hall for favor of the kitchens to avoid Ron, Ron would comment that they had probably got hung up in the nearest broom closet instead.

During one of these trips to the kitchens, Hermione, sitting at a small table eating small sandwiches with Harry, said, "You know, I was thinking… it's kind of crazy and illogical and against everything I stand for… but what if we, you know, pretended to date?"

"You're right, that is crazy. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?" Harry replied, arching an eyebrow at Hermione in question.

"Well, just think about it… he already doesn't believe us, and maybe if he sees us together enough… and Ginny sees us together enough… maybe then they'll realize what they're missing. You know the saying, the heart wants most what the heart can't have?"

And after a few more lectures and tirades in support of her plan, Harry relented, and he couldn't help the feeling of his stomach swooping in anxiety of the prospect of their disastrous, so crazy it just might work, plan.


	3. Chapter 3

"Let's go over it again," Hermione said, furrowing her brow and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Hermione, we've been over it at least a hundred times by now," said Harry, frowning in return.

They were standing outside of the Great Hall on Saturday morning, going over their plan (again) as to how they were going to make Ron and Ginny jealous. Though if Harry were completely honest, he felt rather odd about the whole thing. Ginny was dating Dean, and despite her obvious childhood crush on Harry, he felt he was not even a blimp on her radar. It was a gamble to be sure; there was no guarantee that obtaining a girlfriend, however illegitimate, would make Ginny take notice of him in _that_ way. On the other hand, Ron was obviously frazzled already by their kiss; though he was now on speaking terms with them Ron still thought that something was going on between them and was quite agitated at the prospect. Maybe he was being a rather shoddy best mate to Ron by pretending to date their mutual friend, whom Ron happened to fancy. But if it helped Ron and Hermione to stop dancing around each other and finally get together, that justified it in Harry's mind. Harry did not quite understand why he couldn't just tell Ron that Hermione fancied him, but Hermione had protested vehemently when Harry had suggested it. He would never understand how girls got revenge.

It was rather late, and so most everyone was already inside eating breakfast before the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin that was taking place that day. "Ready?" Hermione said, after having finished reciting the plan again, though Harry had not been paying attention.

Harry felt the swooping sensation in his stomach again. "Ready," he said, grabbing Hermione's hand and interlacing their fingers. He pushed open the door and they entered the Great Hall. They were greeted with whispering and pointing, which Harry supposed he should be used to, but he felt the color rise in his cheeks nonetheless.

The sat down next to each other at the Gryffindor table, knees touching but no longer holding hands. Harry was not interested in the prospect of food, whether from the glare Ron was sending their way, sitting this close to Hermione, or an odd combination of the two he was not sure. He settled on some toast, as did Hermione, whose ears were tinged pink and whose hand was trembling slightly as she smeared on some jam. He reached his hand over and placed it over hers and felt her relax slightly, and saw Ginny arch her eyebrow at them from across the table where she was sitting with Dean. Their feigned subtlety appeared to be working.

Also across the table from them, Ron had his arm around Lavender, who was chatting animatedly with Parvati. Ron did not seem to notice that they were discussing him, however, for he was too busy glaring in Harry and Hermione's general direction. "So what's this then?" Ron asked when Harry had put his arm loosely around Hermione's waist and had leaned in to whisper to her, as dictated by "the plan." Hermione had giggled in response and nodded slightly in assent.

"What's what, Ron?" Hermione bit back in an odd mixture of exasperation and feigned innocence.

"This!" Ron responded, gesticulating his arm wildly towards them.

"Well if you must know, Ronald, Harry's just asked me to Slughorn's Christmas party and I've said yes," said Hermione. " _As friends_ ," she emphasized, whether to assure Harry or rattle Ron or both, he wasn't sure.

"As friends, my arse," Ron muttered under his breath in poorly disguised discontent.

"Believe what you want, Ronald," Hermione replied with an eye roll before turning towards Harry and whispering, "Check," under her breath. Then she giggled, again, and it remained a very un-Hermione-ish sound.

"You really should try to eat something, Harry," said Hermione, brow furrowing in concern and biting her bottom lip again.

"Not hungry," Harry replied gruffly. Hermione squeezed his hand on top of the table before standing up and pulling him with her.

"Well, then I guess we may as well get out of here."

They stood, interlacing their fingers again, before exiting the Great Hall walking much closer together than they ever would have a few weeks ago. They did not look back, but if they had, they would have seen both Ron and Ginny looking after them in vexed bewilderment.


	4. Chapter 4

"What's going on with you and Harry?" Ginny asked Hermione from where she was seated on Hermione's bed, perusing _Witch Weekly_.

Hermione bit her lip and said hesitantly, "With Harry? Nothing."

"Oh don't bother lying, Hermione. Everyone sees how you two have been acting lately. Holding hands and whispering and going to Slughorn's Christmas party. Yesterday at breakfast you _giggled_ ," Ginny said. Here Ginny stopped flipping pages and put the magazine down to look up at Hermione expectantly. "Spill."

"It's nothing, honestly," Hermione replied. "We're best friends; he loves me like a sister!"

"Don't delude yourself, Hermione. I think he fancies you. Besides, it's not the first time everyone thought you two were dating," Ginny replied dispassionately. "Can't say Ron's too pleased, but that's what he gets for parading around with Lavender."

"Harry doesn't fancy me. We're best friends. We haven't been acting any differently than we normally do."

"And they say you're the brilliant one…" said Ginny. "Look, if you fancy him it's okay, I don't have any claim over him; you can tell me. A part of me will always fancy Harry, but I'm perfectly happy with Dean and I would be happy for the two of you. You told me to be myself and I am but if that's not what Harry wants than there's nothing I can do about it. Besides, you two look cute together."

"I couldn't do that to you, Gin. Even if I did fancy Harry," Hermione replied, coming to sit on the bed next to Ginny. She sighed exasperatedly and let herself fall horizontally onto the bed. Ginny smirked and started to speak, but Hermione quickly interjected. "But I don't! I do not fancy Harry!" she said, waving her hand in the air as she spoke as if hand gestures would more convincingly prove her point.

"I'm just saying that it's be perfectly normal and not entirely unexpected if you did, Hermione. And I'm not saying that it'd be easy for me, but if you were to date, I could get over myself enough to be happy for the two of you."

"Thanks, Gin."

"My brother's an idiot for dating Lavender, though. I always thought he would pluck up the courage to ask you out before you got tired and moved on," said Ginny with an air of melancholy. "We could've been sisters!" Ginny grinned at Hermione, and Hermione smiled hesitantly back.

Later, when Hermione relayed the story of her conversation with Ginny, Harry was confused as to how any of it served to advance "the plan."

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, when he expressed his concerns. "She says that she'd be okay with it, but once our plan is in full swing she'll realize how _not_ okay with it she is, and she'll want you more than ever."

"Er… really?"

"Harry Potter, you're absolutely hopeless with girls."

"You don't have to rub it in, 'Mione," Harry replied, ears growing pink.

"I told you not to call me 'Mione!" Hermione exclaimed, hitting him with one of the pillows from the couch.

She was laughing, so Harry supposed he better not press his luck by retaliating with his own fluffy weapons. "If everyone is to believe that we're madly in love," Hermione arched an eyebrow but did not interrupt, "then obviously I should be granted special privileges in the nickname department."

"In your dreams, Potter," said Hermione.

"See, it's not fair! You have a nickname for me!" Hermione laughed and smiled at him, before returning to her potions essay.

Harry's stomach swooped again as he looked over at Hermione working diligently, but it was doing that so often now that he almost could ignore it.

From across the room Ron came up from air from his entangled position with Lavender, just in time to see the look that Harry was giving Hermione while she was bent over another assignment. His stomach swooped uncomfortable and his chest tightened before Lavender's mouth descended on his again. _Just friends_ , he thought sadly.


	5. Chapter 5

"I think it's time for stage two, Mr. Potter," greeted Hermione briskly and businesslike, sitting next to Harry at his table in the library and setting her bulging school bag down on the floor.

"Er, stage two?"

"Honestly, Harry," said Hermione, setting open her textbooks and setting out a fresh piece of parchment to write her potions essay on. "Handholding and giggling do not a relationship make."

"Fake relationship," Harry amended, at which Hermione rolled her eyes before dipping her quill in her ink pot and began writing.

"A fake relationship that has to look convincing," Hermione further amended without looking up from the textbook she was consulting on shrinking solutions.

"What do you propose then, Miss Granger?" asked Harry with trepidation, eyeing Hermione dubiously, his own potions essay for the moment abandoned.

"We're going to have to make it official. Instead of continuing to deny that there's anything going on between us, we have to make our relationship public." At Harry's paling face Hermione added, "Oh honestly, Harry. It's not like we're going to be as perpetually lip-locked as Ron and Lavender are in the common room. Just intermittently, for show."

Harry remained speechless and continued to stare mutely at Hermione, who had also abandoned all pretense of homework. "I'm not going to force you to do anything as abominable as kissing me in public if you're that nauseated at the prospect, Harry."

"I'm not nauseated at the prospect!" croaked Harry indignantly, which received him a rather shrill "Shh!" from Madam Pince.

"Then why have you gone all green?" shot back Hermione angrily. At Harry's stunned silence, Hermione huffed loudly and turned back towards her potions essay, scribbling furiously.

Harry's stomach clenched even more uncomfortably. This was _Hermione_. He supposed he knew that they would have to act more like a couple eventually if their crazy plan were to succeed, but he hadn't realized it would involve _kissing_ in _public_. He turned and saw Hermione, fingers stained with ink from her fervent writing, cheeks reddened, eyes watering, and felt his stomach plummet. "I'm not nauseated at the prospect," he said softly.

She slowed in her writing, and without looking up said, "Well 'not-nauseated' is a start I suppose." She wiped quickly at her eyes, and looking up at Harry said, "Maybe we'll work our way up to 'mildly distressing.'"

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Hermione. This whole convoluted plan is outside of my comfort zone."

"You looked as though you'd rather take on another dragon."

"I'd rather face Voldemort than kiss a girl in public. Nothing personal, Hermione, but your kind are a terrifying sort."

Hermione laughed, and Harry's stomach swooped. "I quite understand," she said, returning to her essay with a smile. Harry grinned lopsidedly back at her, before dipping his quill in his inkwell and returning to his own essay.

It was a few days later on Saturday morning, before Gryffindor's match against Ravenclaw, and Harry's stomach was in knots. But not because of the match. Harry and Hermione had decided that, to spread the word as efficiently as possible and to avoid as much interrogation as possible, it was best to kiss in a public space, with many people around to see, but who were all having far too good a time to pay them much attention beyond a few hollers and whoops. In other words, not unlike Ron and Lavender a few short weeks ago, they were to kiss in front of everyone at the celebratory festivities following the Quidditch match. Hermione appreciated the irony. Harry almost hoped that they lost and they'd have to come up with something else.

Hermione slid in next to him, buttered a piece of toast, and dropped in unceremoniously onto his plate. "Eat," she commanded.

"Not hungry," Harry said, pushing his plate away. She prodded him with her elbow in the ribs. "Alright, alright," he said in surrender, nibbling at the toast.

"Better," mumbled Hermione, glancing away from him to return to her book with a slight smirk.

"If I hurl in front of the entire student body on the pitch I am putting all of the blame on you," he paused here for effect, "' _Mione_ ," he said with emphasis.

"That's not my name!" she said in indignation.

"Of course it's not your name. It is, however, a rather endearing nickname," Harry grinned lopsidedly at her.

"You have your laugh now, Potter, but just you wait. You'll get your just desserts."

"I didn't know you knew how to bake, 'Mione."

Looking like she was trying very hard not to smile, Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her book. Harry, suddenly feeling very hungry, piled some eggs on his plate to go with his toast just as Ron joined them at the table. Lavender's presence was suspiciously lacking.

"Morning," Ron said, sliding into a seat across from them and piling food high onto his plate.

"Morning," returned Harry with a nod.

"Good morning, Ronald," said Hermione pleasantly without looking up from her book, still trying not to smile.

"What's with you this morning, Hermione?" inquired Ron with a quirked eyebrow, stopping in the demolition of the small feast piled on his plate.

"Nothing," she said quickly, and Harry swore he saw her cheeks redden.

"It's just that I'm hilarious and she's trying hard not to admit it," said Harry smugly, and Hermione's face became even redder.

"You _wish_ you were funny, Harry."

At Ron's inquiring glance, Harry just smiled and shrugged. Ron eyed them skeptically with a frown before shrugging and returning to his breakfast.

They had won the match, but it had been a long, wet match as it been torrentially downpouring for the duration. Feeling supremely tired, Harry changed in the locker room slowly, stomach clenching uncomfortably in anticipation of the beginning of stage two. He was the last one to depart for the castle, and so when he arrived at the Gryffindor tower the festivities were already in full swing. He swept his eyes over the crowd, nervously trying to locate Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.

Ron was sitting on the couch with Lavender in his lap, a butterbeer dangling from one hand, lips surprisingly unoccupied as Lavender was gossiping with Pavarti. Ginny was sitting with Dean at the opposite end of the couch whispering conspiratorially while glancing over at Ron and Lavender every so often. Then he spotted Hermione, standing not too far away from them, looking just as nervous as he felt. She was holding two unopened butterbeers, looking all around the room, _probably for me_ , he thought, and his stomach bubbled. Her teeth were chewing nervously on her bottom lip, and she looked for all the world as if she would like nothing more than to run up the stairs to the girl's dormitory.

He walked over to her, muscles aching, stomach tightening, heart pounding. When she saw him from several yard away she smiled nervously and he smiled back. "Hey, Hermione," he said in a voice that was much calmer than he felt.

"Hey, Harry," breathed out Hermione. "I got you a butterbeer, I thought you might like one. And I wasn't really sure what to do while I waited. Are you okay? You took an awfully long time getting here I was starting to worry that maybe –"

But Harry didn't know what she had been starting to worry, because he had interrupted her nervous rambling with his lips. She gave a small "Ooompfh!" of surprise and Harry thought he heard the two butterbeers thud dully against the carpet. But if he was being honest, which he never seemed to be lately, he wasn't really paying attention to anything but Hermione's mouth moving softly against his. It wasn't until he became cognizant of a wolf whistle and a lack of oxygen that he broke apart, surprised to find that at some point during their kiss his hands had once again come to be entangled in her wild mane of her and wrapped tightly around her waist. He was even more surprised when Hermione's own hands disentangled themselves from his own hair.

Feeling extremely disoriented, stomach still doing funny acrobatics, he looked around the common room dazedly, vaguely registering the gaping Weasley's and Hermione's own shocked face.

"Sorry, 'Mione," he said groggily, turning back to her. "Not exactly according to plan." He ruffled his own hair nervously, and then she smiled at him, lips pink and face flushed, and pulled him down to kiss her again.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry and Hermione were sitting on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room in the aftermath of their kiss. Harry had draped one arm around her shoulder, and was contently drinking his butterbeer.

"I told you that I was sure that your kissing is more than satisfactory, Harry," Hermione was saying, echoing her sentiments from the previous year when he had been so worried about kissing Cho. Upon hearing this, Harry nearly choked on his butterbeer, and began coughing and sputtering, removing his arm from around Hermione to hit himself on the chest.

"Oh, honestly Harry," said Hermione, hitting his back to help him, "I'm just stating a fact, don't complicate the breathing process on my account."

He took this opportunity to glare at his best friend and said, "Glad you're enjoying yourself at my expense," but she just smiled widely at him and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Look," she said, smile dimming as she looked past Harry to the other side of the room, "Ron's coming over." She was biting her bottom lip again, a nervous habit that had begun to endear Harry, and had grasped his free hand tightly.

Harry turned and saw Ron, who had extricated himself from Lavender, walking toward them determinedly. He gave Hermione's hand a small squeeze and her grip relaxed slightly.

"Hey mate," Harry said once Ron had come within spitting distance of them.

"Hello, Ron," Hermione echoed, attempting a small smile.

Ron, however, skipped the pleasantries altogether, sitting heavily on the couch as if he hadn't heard them at all. Hermione's smile slipped off her face. Looking rather conflicted he turned toward them, "So I guess you two are together now, then." He didn't phrase it as a question but looked expectantly at Hermione, waiting for an answer anyway.

Hermione looked at Ron, then turned to look resolutely toward Harry, squeezing his hand again, then back again. When Hermione didn't answer, Harry, still looking at Hermione, said quietly, "Yeah. Yeah we're together now." He looked back toward Ron and watched his face fall, before reddening in a flare of his Weasley temper.

"At least, now you're together officially, right?" Ron said rhetorically, anger creeping into his voice. "Decided to finally stop sneaking around behind everyone's backs, huh? Didn't have the decency to tell me before you started parading around the whole common room in front of everyone though, did you?" His was almost shouting now, and was standing, looking down at the two of them and glaring daggers.

Hermione had released her hand and started to rise out of her chair, but Harry gently pulled her back down, trying to prevent a screaming match between them. She took an angry, shaky breath, before responding through gritted teeth, "We never did anything behind your back, but you're too self-absorbed to listen, Ronald. There's nothing to tell because our being together only just happened." She looked like she wanted to say more, but restrained herself.

"We're not trying to hurt you, Ron," added Harry quietly, because at least he wasn't, "You're my best mate. We just want you to be happy for us."

"Fat chance of that," said Ron before storming out of the portrait hole.

The common room, which had gone quiet to watch Ron implode, resumed its activities, having expected a much lengthier and more interesting fight.

Ginny, however, came over to sit next to them, and she sat so close that her leg was pressed slightly against Harry's. He felt his heart speed up slightly. "Hi Gin," greeted Hermione sadly, tearing her eyes away from the portrait hole.

"Don't worry about Ron. He'll come around," said Ginny. "Once he's stopped being a great big git, anyway." She smiled briefly at the two of them. "The rest of us are very happy for the two of you, at least. Well, except maybe Seamus, who lost a bet to Dean. He thought the two of you wouldn't get together for at least another month."

"People have been betting on our getting together?" asked Hermione incredulously. "Not just if, but when?"

"Well, I mean, you two have been acting rather odd lately. Some of us just figured it was only a matter of time. Anyway, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." Harry felt his face flush. "Oh, don't you two start looking so scandalized," said Ginny. "Not after that kiss." She winked at the both of them, standing up and returning to the seat she had vacated next to Dean.

News had traveled rapidly, and by the next morning at breakfast the whole school knew that Harry and Hermione were an item. By Hermione's estimation, everything had gone as well as could have been expected, from the kiss itself to the initial shock transparent on the faces of both Weasley's in the aftermath of the kiss, to Ron's jealousy-fueled verbal attack. However, though Harry had not voiced his doubts to Hermione, Harry's stomach was in knots about the whole thing. Ron was his best mate, and he felt awful for pretending that he was dating Hermione when the whole thing was a fabrication. Pretending to date Hermione in and of itself was a strange and unnerving experience. He was never sure what to do when he was with her. Were they supposed to hold hands? Were they supposed to do everything together now? Was he supposed to be affectionate towards her? Harry was already absolute rubbish with girls, but "being" with Hermione was especially difficult because he didn't know what the boundaries were. Every action was suspect now, and things that used to be normal made his heart pound with anxiety that was normally reserved for when he saw Ginny with Dean.

That particular morning, Ron was avoiding them. Sitting at the other end of the Gryffindor table, he kept shooting them fervent glances every so often, and while Hermione resolutely looked anywhere but in the direction were Ron was seated, Harry unabashedly observed Ron, who looked away quickly whenever he noticed Harry looking back at him. He missed his best mate.

Ron had taken to sitting with Lavendar, Neville, or Seamus (he was still angry with Dean for dating Ginny) in every class that day as well, and went to bed early so as to not have to speak to Harry in the evening either. This continued for several days, during which Harry had taken to carrying Hermione's books and spending time with her in the library, holding hands in corridors and pecking her on the cheek in whenever he had to leave or in greeting whenever he returned. However, thankfully, Hermione had said that they shouldn't have to kiss at all anymore, for now everyone would just assume that they did so in private, for which Harry was grateful. They had endured a continuous stream of congratulators in the days since their becoming "official," the most surprising of whom had been Professor McGonagall, who had positively beamed at them in a rare gesture, and Professor Slughorn, who had apparently made several galleons off of their ruse. Draco Malfoy, who normally would have taken the opportunity to make several jabs at them, as well as Ron, had been strangely uninterested in the development, which only furthered Harry's suspicions that he had more insidious preoccupations. When he voiced this observation aloud to Hermione, expecting to be rebuffed, she became rather contemplative, and said she supposed that his behavior had been rather odd lately.

It was the following Saturday, exactly a week after Harry and Hermione had kissed for the second time. They were sitting together on a couch in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione's stockinged feet were in Harry's lap and she was reading from a thick tome, quill between her teeth, and her hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail. Harry was attempting to read for Transfiguration, but was mostly preoccupied with Dean and Ginny across the room, who were flirting over a game of wizard's chess.

Harry was so preoccupied, in fact, that he didn't notice Ron had come over to them until Ron spoke. "Erm, hiya Harry," said Ron nervously, fidgeting with the bottom of his fraying jumper.

"Hi Ron," Harry replied, eyebrow quirked in surprise. Harry felt Hermione become very tense next to him, and when Harry glanced at her quickly, she was feigning disinterest but her eyes were no longer moving across the page of her book.

"Do you think that I could talk to you…" He glanced at Hermione anxiously, "You know, alone?"

"Er… sure," Harry replied hesitantly. Hermione drew her legs up to her chest so that he could stand, and Harry leaned over to peck her cheek before standing and following Ron outside the portrait hole. Hermione squeezed his hand gently and gave him a small smile, and Ron looked away, looking very much like he would rather be anywhere but standing in front of the two of them.

They found themselves sitting in the very same classroom that had started all this nonsense in the first place all those weeks ago. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows, and the dust illuminated in the sunbeams felt oppressive and heavy with the silence that pervaded the room.

"Harry," Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. He took a deep breath and said very quietly, "Why did it have to be Hermione?"

"What?" Asked Harry, caught off guard.

"You and Hermione. Why did it have to be you and Hermione?" It must have been a rhetorical question, however, because before Harry could formulate a response Ron was talking again. "I know that I should be happy for the two of you. Really, I want to be," he said earnestly. "But I can't. I know you don't mean to do it, and I know that life hasn't been a picnic for you, mate, but I can't help feeling like you always get everything that I want." Before Harry could interject, Ron plowed on, "I'm not trying to blame you or anything. If I fancied Hermione I should have done something about it… But, I mean, I had no idea you felt that way about her too. And I'm your best mate and you didn't even say anything to me, I had to find out by accidently walking in on you in this bloody classroom, you know?" He paused, and Harry thought he might keep going, but he fell silent. He gave a great sigh and seemed to deflate a little.

Harry desperately wanted to tell Ron that it was all a ruse, that Hermione fancied him too, but instead he found himself saying, "You've never mentioned anything about Hermione either." Which was true, but Harry had still known that there was more to Hermione and Ron's relationship than that… wasn't it just a few short weeks ago she had been crying in this very classroom over Ron and Lavender? "And if you fancy her that much, what have you been doing with Lavender?"

Looking a little ashamed, "You know, Lavender's kind of the anti-Hermione. But we don't fight and she makes me feel like my own person, you know? Like she's not settling being with me, and I don't have to feel second best for once. It's nice to feel wanted."

More silence.

"Look, Harry, I wish I could say I was happy for you…" Another sigh. "But really all I want is my best mate back."

"I never really went away, Ron."

"I'm sorry for being a git."

"Yeah, well, you always come around." Ron smiled hesitantly at him, and Harry smiled slightly back. "But you know, you hurt Hermione more than you hurt me. She's not just my best friend, you know. She's yours too. Maybe I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Ron's smile disappeared. "I know."

"So what did you think of the Canons' last match?"

And just like that, Harry and Ron were back to normal.

They came back to the common room, intensely discussing the chances of Gryffindor's winning the Quidditch Cup this year, but Ron fell silent when he saw Hermione, who was looking up at them in surprise from her book, a strange expression on her face. Harry sat down next to her and pecked her on the cheek. Hermione smiled briefly at him, but it was small and lacked any real conviction. Her gaze turned hard as she looked back to Ron, who stood awkwardly a few paces away. "Er… Hermione, do you think you could, er…" Ron's face had started to flush a bright red. "Help me with the potion's essay?" he finished rather lamely.

Hermione contemplated Ron for a moment, before saying, in typical Hermione fashion, "I'll correct it but I'm not writing it for you!"

"Hermione, have I ever told you how brilliant you are?" said Ron, a ghost of a smile forming on his face.

Hermione's frostiness seemed to melt away, and her face softened as she looked at Ron. "Maybe once or twice," she said.

At this exchange Harry couldn't help but to smile slightly into his Transfiguration book that he was pretending to read. However, he couldn't help but notice the feeling of his stomach plummeting uncomfortably at the small smiles between Ron and Hermione.

From then on the trio had slipped into a semblance of normalcy. Harry and Hermione continued their ruse, Ron continued to look mildly uncomfortable around them, and they never actually talked about the falling out that had transpired. But for the time being, Harry was happy to have his two best friends back.


	7. Chapter 7

"Honestly, Harry. I don't bite," said Hermione one evening, when Harry had moved his head to the side when Hermione had tried to kiss him on the lips, frowning slightly. Hermione had decided that the little pecks were necessary to be convincing, but she only really did it when Ron was in the room (he was currently across the common room, playing wizards chess with Lav-Lav perched in his lap, but still cleaning the clock of a very disgruntled Ginny). "You never used to be this uncomfortable around me." Her frown deepened and Harry felt his stomach sink.

The truth was that, while pretending to Hermione's boyfriend had proven to be a fairly easy task, since it was _Hermione_ and he knew her better than almost anyone else, he felt so guilty about what they were doing to Ron that he sometimes had a rather difficult time playing along. He hadn't told Hermione about his conversation with Ron that had effectively reinstated their friendship. And he still had this strange feeling in his chest whenever he saw Ginny, especially with Dean, but he wasn't really sure what he wanted from Ginny. Especially since she seemed genuinely happy. He wasn't really sure what he thought about anything anymore.

"Hey," said Hermione softly when Harry had remained silent, pushing his hair back gently before entwining their hands. "It's just me. Same old Hermione." Harry felt his body relax slightly with the gesture, and sighed deeply.

"It feels strange to be part of something that's just a fabrication, Hermione," said Harry, which was true, but enigmatic nonetheless.

"Well, then, we'll have to be more convincing." Harry's heart started to beat a little faster. "From here on," said Hermione, "for all intents and purposes, we're just a normal couple. No planning out acts of affection, no more only doing things when people are around to see them. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it right."

And then she kissed him, and for once it wasn't because Ron was watching and because she wanted to make a point, it was for him. It was short, and sweet, and tender. It felt as dizzying as their first kiss, before this crazy plan, and left Harry's blood pounding in his ears, but also left him feeling more relaxed and less confused than he had felt in weeks.

"All in, then?" whispered Harry into her ear, heart still palpitating faster than normal.

"All in, Mr. Potter," whispered Hermione in return.

From across the room, though it had escaped both of their attention, Ron and Ginny had stopped paying attention to their game of chess, and exchanged sad, knowing glances as they watched Harry envelope Hermione in a hug and kiss the top of her head. Harry had certainly never done anything so tenderly affectionate to anyone else before.

"Won-Won, aren't you going to take your turn?"

Shaking his head slightly, in a small voice, Ron replied, "Yeah, yeah of course. Ready for the massacre, Gin?"

"Well, you'd think I would be by now, anyway, but I just can't seem to admit defeat," Ginny replied.

After that things were not actually that much different. Harry and Hermione still held hands in the hallway, he still carried her books, he still spent almost all his free time with her (even if that often meant the library), and he still kissed her whenever he had to leave and whenever he returned (only now more often the kiss was on her lips). Perhaps the only difference is that were a little more affectionate and more so publicly than before.

However, Harry felt much better about the whole thing, though he couldn't really tell you why that was, for he couldn't even explain it to himself. He and Hermione had fallen into a routine, and though maybe it was all a rouse, it didn't feel as inorganic as maybe it could have.

"What are the two of you doing for the Hogsmeade weekend this Saturday?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione one morning over breakfast. "I was thinking that, you know, maybe the three of us could go together. It's been a while since the three of us have had a chance to do something fun all together." Which might just have been the understatement of the century.

Hermione, who had not bickered with Ron in a surprisingly long time, and had even stopped giving Harry grief about that damn potions book, smiled genuinely and said, "I think that sounds splendid, Ron."

They both looked expectantly at Harry, who grabbed Hermione's hand where it rested on the table, gave it a squeeze, and said, "Why would I possibly object?"

"Brilliant," said Ron, smiling. "It's decided then. We'll all go to Hogsmeade together."

It was at this moment that Lavender slipped into the seat next to Ron and said excitedly, "Ooo, a double date, then? That sounds lovely Won-Won!" and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm thinking Madam Puddifoot's…" And then Lavender was off, planning the whole thing, having missed the Trio wrinkling their noses at the prospect. Harry gave Ron a questioning glance, and he just shrugged, and made a motion to indicate that Lavender was crazy, but there was nothing to do about it now.

"Maybe we can find a way to use the situation to our advantage," Hermione whispered to him quietly, before declaring she was off to the library and kissing Harry on the cheek before departing.

Suddenly, Hogsmeade didn't sound so splendid to Harry after all.


	8. Chapter 8

While Harry had initially felt better at the prospect of "all in" he quickly came to realize that he didn't really know what was meant by the sentiment that he had proposed, and couldn't help but think he and Hermione were, for perhaps the first time he could remember, on different wavelengths of thought entirely. They weren't really dating, he had to remind himself. Hermione wanted to be with Ron and Ron as much as told Harry that he wanted Hermione. Harry was a place holder. A screen on which Hermione could project what she really wanted – he was, he realized, a rebound from a relationship that hadn't even gotten off the ground.

Harry didn't think that this plan was such a great idea anymore. Ron was increasingly moody and distant whenever the three of them were in the same place at the same time, which he rarely was, as Lavender Brown had seemed to decide that any moment that she was not kissing Ron was a moment wasted. Ginny seemed happy with Dean, who she was attending Slughorn's party with, and had ceased to make any comments about Harry and Hermione's relationship – except the occasional suggestive wink when they turned up strategically disheveled in the common room in the evenings, though really they hadn't actually done anything. And Hermione, when she wasn't doing homework or nagging him to do his, and when she wasn't brainstorming ways to get information from Slughorn, she was talking about Ron and what they could do next to further their (rather insidious) agenda. And Harry… he was feeling rather confused; about Hermione, about Ron, about how he got roped into this whole bloody mess in the first place.

"Hermione?" queried Harry hesitantly one afternoon in the library.

"Mhmm?" Hermione hummed in response, not looking up from her essay, crossing out a few sentences in her revising. She absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, but it refused to stay put, so she absently twirled her finger around the strand instead. She looked so calm in the library, relaxed as she completed yet another assignment early. And Harry realized he was interrupting what had become a rare moment of comfortable silence between them.

Harry reached out and gently brushed the strand of hair back behind her ear, lingering to make sure it stayed. Hermione looked up at him in a kind of dazed surprise. "Harry, what is it?" A pause. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Harry didn't know in what way he was looking at her. He felt warmth spread to his cheeks and his stomach stir uncomfortably and he quickly dropped his hand and looked away. "Never mind," he replied hurriedly, bending back over a tome that he hadn't managed to read a full paragraph of in over an hour.

Hermione put her quill down and turned to face Harry, but he stared determinedly at the words on the page. "Harry?" she asked softly. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"What are we doing, Hermione?" he asked in frustration, groaning into the book.

"What do you mean? We're doing homework…"

"No, Hermione," Harry said, sitting up straight and looking at her. "What are we _doing_? Ever since we started doing, well, whatever this is" Harry made a gesture between them with their hands. "I don't know where we stand with each other, or with Ron, or what to even say to either of you anymore."

Hermione bit her lip, eyes watering. "We can stop," she said, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. "If you don't want to be a part of it… I should've never dragged you into this in the first place. I've made such a mess of things."

He looked at her rather stupidly, not knowing what to say. Harry marveled at how he always managed to make girls cry. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry!" Hermione exclaimed tearfully, launching herself forward to hug him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

 _Damn it all_ , he thought, wrapping his arms around her and settling his chin on top of her head. "Things are a mess," he said, "but now we have to fix them. We're in this deep now, might as well finish what we started."

"Really?" came Hermione's muffled reply.

"Really. Tell me what to do."

"Things have gotten to be so ridiculous," she said, and gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "What have I gotten us into?"

Harry didn't reply, opting instead to stroke her hair and rub her back absently, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, I mean, to finish what we started we have to come full circle. We can continue the ruse until the double date in Hogsmeade, yeah? And then we end it, and let the chips fall where they may. Go back to normal. Revenge is too exhausting. It quite possible that Ron never had any bloody feelings for me in the first place, and now I've gone and made all three of us miserable."

"You're not the only guilty party, Hermione," said Harry softly. Hermione sniffed again and sat up, wiping her eyes and picking up her quill to resume work. "Though it was your idea," said Harry cheekily.

She laughed and Harry grinned at her, and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks," she blushed, "You know, for talking sense into me. Though the irony isn't lost on me."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed in reply, but he was smiling. "Miss Granger, I think I may be a bad influence on you."

"It's a distinct possibility," she replied, but she was smiling too.


	9. Chapter 9

It was only Tuesday when Harry and Hermione had come to the conclusion that their ruse had to end, but they had the rest of the week until their double date in Hogsmeade. And since they had decided to end it, since Hermione had stopped caring about getting back at Ron, Harry felt things between himself and Hermione had shifted, though their routine remained the same.

He met her in the common room to head down to breakfast, insisted on carrying her books, held her hand and walked her to class, sat next to her and whispered jokes in her ear to distract her, and though she tried to act angry she always ended up smiling. She came to their Quidditch practices and read in the stands. They spent afternoons in the library doing homework and just talking, about all kinds of things; about Malfoy and Dumbledore and Slughorn, about Hermione's family, about whether or not Madam Pince and Mr. Filch were secretly in love… In the evenings, after dinner, Hermione would read with her feet in Harry's lap, while Harry finished assignments or, more often, played wizard's chess, since he was actually ahead for perhaps the first time in his entire Hogwarts career. And he hadn't even used the Prince's book in weeks.

Harry found himself dreading the day it would end.

It wasn't any kind of revelation, or something he consciously acknowledged, even. Not until one day, hands resting on Hermione's stockinged shins, dozing with an unopened book in his hands, when Hermione shifted to get more comfortable. And Harry, for perhaps the first time, _really_ noticed her. He noticed when she yawned that she had dimples. He found himself mesmerized when she bit her lip in concentration, or furrowed her brow when she was trying to figure something out. He was astonished when she stretched and exposed the milky skin of her thighs in the space between her stockings and her skirt, and for one unchecked moment wondered if the skin there was as soft as it looked. And then, it _was_ a revelation, because he found himself wanting desperately to kiss his best friend, _really_ kiss her, and his face flushed at the memory that he _had_ kissed her, and her lips had been so soft and her body so warm against his own.

 _Uh oh._

He didn't even realize that he had been staring, until, "Harry, are you alright?"

Hermione was looking at him with this amused expression on her face, eyes dancing, eyebrow arched, and Harry felt warmth pool in his stomach and his cheeks flush.

"Fine," Harry said, inwardly cursing when his voice cracked. "I'm tired, so I think I'm just going to go to bed."

Hermione looked at him, bemused and perplexed, smiling a slightly confused smile. "Alright," she said, and there was laughter in her voice as he quickly gathered his things together. "Goodnight, Harry."

He paused, looked at the girl next to him, and knew he was done for. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said, and leaned forward to kiss her. He intended it to be a peck, but had he mentioned how soft her lips were? And so he cupped one side of her face, hand tangling slightly in her hair, and kissed her deeply, breathing her in. And a second later he pulled away, and when Hermione opened her eyes he had already disappeared up the steps to the boy's dormitory.

 _What had gotten into him?_


	10. Chapter 10

The day after Harry realized that maybe his feelings for Hermione weren't quite platonic anymore, he found that suddenly everything Hermione did was driving him bloody insane. At breakfast she actually _licked_ the jam off the end of her butter knife. In Transfiguration Harry was so distracted by her chewing her quill that he almost fell off his chair when Professor McGonagall asked him a question. In Potions he missed a whole step in brewing his Draught because Hermione had stood on her tiptoes to look into her cauldron and her thighs had been exposed again.

And now, in the hallway after their last class of the day, she was walking slightly ahead of him and Ron, and… Merlin, had she always looked that way when she walked?

"Ron, there's something I want to talk to Hermione about. I'll see you later, yeah?" Harry found himself saying, though there was nothing he particularly wanted to talk about.

Ron gave him a disbelieving look. "Yeah, okay mate," he said, but did not sound convinced.

"Thanks," Harry said, already speeding up to catch up with Hermione. He grabbed her by the elbow to turn down the corridor to their right and Ron kept walking.

"Harry, wha…?" But Hermione didn't get a chance to finish her question, because Harry had pulled her through the first door he had seen, and closed the door behind them.

Only to be plunged into semi-darkness. He had pulled them into what happened to be a broom closet. Hermione tried again. "Harry, what on earth…"

But Harry had cut her off again, this time with his mouth. Harry was kissing her, kissing _Hermione_ , and after one shocked moment she was kissing him back. He pushed he up against one of the walls, nerves tingling, one hand buried in her hair and the other cupping her face, knocking over several brooms and buckets which clattered loudly to the floor. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket, mumbling a quick spell to lock the door and a _muffliato_ under his breath, before pocketing it and pulling Hermione flush against him by the waist.

He wanted to devour her. His tongue traced her bottom lip, and then his tongue was in her mouth and he could _taste_ her. He broke away, trailing kisses from her jaw to her ear, and then down her neck, one hand traveling down to her thigh, and it was softer than he had even imagined. Then Hermione _moaned_ and Harry's hands traveled upwards, roaming her body, trying to pull her closer and closer against him. He fumbled with her tie, loosening it and unbuttoning the top of her blouse to gain access to her collarbone. He found himself with one hand on her breast, and he could feel her hardened nipple through the fabric. The other hand had untucked her shirt and slid underneath, and the skin on her abdomen was even softer than the skin on her thighs. He found her lips again and gave her a bruising kiss, still up against the wall, and Hermione was clutching Harry's forearms, trembling slightly, and Harry felt great satisfaction in knowing that he was the one who had had that effect on her.

He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and grinded himself against her, hands roaming and tangling in her hair and just reveling in the feel of her with him like _this_. Her hands had tangled in his hair and Harry felt like his whole world was on fire.

"Hermione…" he groaned against her mouth. But this was a mistake, because Hermione abruptly pulled away from him, panting, unhooking her legs from around his waist and stumbling to stand on her own.

Dazed and disheveled, face red and hair positively wild, trembling slightly, she looked more beautiful than Harry had ever seen her.

"What _was_ that?" she asked in wonder, eyes widening as she looked at Harry.

The reality of what Harry had just done came crashing down around him. What _had_ he just done? What could have possibly possessed him to pull Hermione into a broom closet and have his wicked way with her? Panic started rising in his chest, but then he realized, _she kissed me back_.

And then he couldn't help but to feel positively giddy. So all he did in response was to grin at Hermione his lopsided grin, and her face flushed even redder. "Hermione, I…"

And then the door was wrenched open – they hadn't even heard someone cast _Alohomora_ – and Ron was looking wildly back and forth between the two of them.

Looking furious, ears tinged red, Ron said pointedly to Harry, "So you wanted to talk with her, did you?" When he was met with silence, Hermione's face steadily turning the same shade of red as Ron's hair, he continued, "It's getting late, are you two coming to dinner or not?"

They shuffled out of the broom closet, Hermione tucking in her shirt and fixing her tie and looking distinctly guilty, Harry trying to suppress his smile in the awkward aftermath of being caught, Ron looking so red steam might begin to blow out of his ears. Hermione shot him a questioning glance, and Harry just shrugged, interlacing their fingers as the Trio made their way to the Great Hall.

"How did you know Ron would come looking for us?" Hermione asked later that evening. "I thought we weren't going to keep up this ruse any longer, I thought no more pretending…" Her brow furrowed adorably, and Harry's heart panged because he wasn't pretending. Not anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I admit that as a college student nearing finals I have little extra time to devote to the much more pleasurable pastime of writing Harry Potter fanfiction. Here's a little snippet to tide you over in the meantime (hopefully there are readers out there interested enough to need tiding over). We're getting there, I promise.

The next day, Friday, turned out to be an exceptionally difficult day for Harry. It was his last day to be with Hermione in not-so-platonic terms before their double date in Hogsmeade, and therefore the inevitable termination of what had steadily become the happiest part of Harry's (admittedly rather dismal) existence. He felt anxiety spread through his chest and his heart pound with every look and every touch. It felt like goodbye, and Harry felt melodramatic in a way that was astonishingly normal for a boy of 16, and not at all like the melodrama typical of the Boy-Who-Lived. For a day he forgot about Draco and Slughorn, Voldemort and his lessons with Professor Dumbledore, and was blessedly and inopportunely acting like a lovesick teenager. And in true form, he was quite sure that the inevitable breaking of his heart by Hermione Granger was a much worse fate than any he had yet encountered.

Currently, he was sitting in the common room with Hermione's feet in his lap, after a day trying to commit the feeling of her fingers entangled with his and her soft lips pressed against his skin to memory, feeling emotionally exhausted in a way that was both unfamiliar and unwelcome. If he had thought the feeling of seeing Dean with Ginny had been a monster in his chest, then what was this crushing feeling he had now? Why was it so much worse?

Hermione was humming under her breath happily, unfazed by Harry's inner turmoil and seemingly experiencing none of it herself. He had reached a new level of pathetic, Harry decided silently as he pondered fraudulent romantic relations and resultant unrequited love. He stared unabashedly at Hermione, trying to preserve this last blessed moment of peace and the look of Hermione _happy_. He may have even deluded himself so far as to think that maybe, perhaps, Hermione looked so happy sitting there in part because she was sitting with him.

The corners of Hermione's lips ticked upward in an unmistakable smirk, and, without looking up for her book, she arched an eyebrow and prodded him gently with her foot. _Busted_.

"You're doing it again," she said with amusement, still reading.

"I assure you that I am quite unaware of my supposed perpetual habit of which you speak," Harry responded verbosely and evasively, averting his eyes and twiddling his thumbs in feigned innocence.

"You were staring at me," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Was not."

"You're such a terrible liar, Harry." Now she was smiling fully, as far as Harry could deduce from his peripheral vision. This was true, Harry supposed, since he had not even been able to lie to himself about his feelings for Hermione in a doomed relationship.

"Am not," he replied in defiance, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Still not looking in her direction, he stuck his tongue out at her for good measure. She laughed.

Hermione grabbed his hand, forcing him to uncross his arms, and he looked down and their conjoined hands, breathing in a deep breath and relaxing into the comfort that just sitting with Hermione afforded.

He looked up at her, head tilted slightly to the side, and squeezed her hand.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing, mildly perplexed. She looked at him like a puzzle she was trying to solve.

"Like what, exactly?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Harry shifted closer to Hermione on the couch, and cupped the back of her head with his hand, rubbing underneath her ear gently with the pad of his thumb. "I'll let you know when I figure it out," he said softly, and leaned down to press his lips softly and slowly against hers for what was probably the last time, at least like this. He reached his other hand up to cup the other side of her face, threading it slowly through her hair, reveling in the softness of the thick tangled mass. He pulled away slowly, eyes lidded heavily, feeling both content and wistful simultaneously, wishing that this moment didn't feel so much like a conclusion.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said softly into her hair, embracing her in a warm and comforting hug. "I'll see you in the morning."

And with that he was gone, already disappearing up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

"Goodnight, Harry," whispered Hermione, feeling distinctly colder with his departure.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: In which Harry plays the hero, and forgets to save himself. Again.

Saturday morning found Harry waiting anxiously in the common room with Ron for Hermione and Lavender to descend the stairs of the girl's dormitory to accompany them to breakfast. Ron was idly chatting about Quidditch when footsteps echoed in the general vicinity of the girl's staircase, and Harry sat a little straighter, straining to see the person responsible for the noise, heart thudding a little faster in the anxiety that it might be Hermione, only for Ginny's long, straight, red hair to appear into view. Slumping back into the couch and sighing distinctly, Ron followed his gaze hopefully and seemed as equally disappointed to find that it was his sister making her way into the common room.

"Good morning, boys!" she said brightly, coming to sit next to them on the couch, practically bouncing off the balls of her feet as she walked.

"Someone's chipper," said Ron monotonously.

Not allowing Ron to dampen her morning, Ginny replied, "Well why shouldn't I be? It's a lovely day for a Hogsmeade visit with some good company." She smiled widely at both of them and patted Ron's hand almost pityingly. "I don't know why the both of you don't look happier."

"Double date," Ron supplied in explanation, scowling slightly but not appearing to be particularly angry.

Ginny nodded sympathetically. "We all have to do things that we don't want to do sometimes, to make the people we care about happy." She paused for a moment then added, "Isn't that right, _Won-Won_?" Grinning at her brother, whose scowl had deepened at the utterance of his endearing nickname, Ginny continued, "Maybe Dean and I will join you at the Three Broomsticks for lunch. You've got room for one more couple, right?"

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny cut him off before he could even utter a syllable. "No objections? I'll see you all at 1 o' clock, then. Have fun!" And she departed with Dean, who had just appeared at the bottom of the boy's staircase, and who shot them a quizzical look as he passed, to which Harry merely shrugged in response.

"Won-Won!" Lavender exclaimed, dashing towards Ron as she and Hermione finally made their appearance in the common room. As Lavender descended on Ron, who nodded at appropriate times and tried his best to keep up with the diatribe tumbling out of her mouth, Hermione approached Harry, frowning slightly at the sight of Lavender draping herself over Ron's arm in customary fashion. Whether it was a frown of distaste or one of jealousy or a combination of both Harry was not sure, but he thought it probably had more to do with the latter than the former.

"Hey," she said, coming to stand next to Harry.

"Hey," he replied, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek and intertwining their fingers. "You look very nice today," he said, gesturing at her with their conjoined hands. And she did, she looked beautiful in a way Harry was sure only Hermione could. She was wearing jeans and a thick, warm woolen sweater of the Mrs. Weasley variety that was emerald green and embroidered with a large capital 'H.' Her wild hair was braided back into a plait that fell down to the middle of her back, and Harry thought she looked equally suited both to tackle a double date with Ron and Lavender or to curl up with Harry on a couch by the fire. It was pretty obvious to him which one he would have preferred to be doing.

"As do you, Mr. Potter," she replied, smiling warmly, and Harry couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey, is that my sweater?" he asked in fake incredulity, placing the emerald hue.

Hermione flushed a deep red, "Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied, smiling shyly at him.

Happy as he was that she had stolen his clothes, and he had to admit they looked better on her anyway, he still couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom as they began the walk to the Great Hall for breakfast.

At breakfast Harry ate his bacon in nervous anticipation, heart thudding palpably against his ribcage, not knowing how to return to normal and knowing that it would never actually be the same as it once was. He might not have been the most observant person, but now that he had had his epiphany, he couldn't overlook Hermione any longer. It seemed forever ago that Hermione had been just his best friend, and that all those times she had grabbed his hands or his arms or catapulted herself into his arms in a bone-crushing hug had gone unnoticed in the comfort that they brought.

He had always known how much Hermione cared about him, from helping him to save Sirius, to practicing and researching with him for hours to survive the Tri-Wizard Tournament, to following him to the Ministry with so much faith in him even when he knew she was so skeptical. Even the things that she had done that had bothered him, like reporting his Firebolt to McGonagall or nagging him about the Prince's textbook, stemmed from a place of care and concern that seemed unparalleled by any other person, even Ron, though he didn't always agree with her.

And it wasn't even just that without Hermione Granger he surely would have gotten himself killed by now. It was that Hermione didn't care that he was famous Harry Potter, but cared so deeply and so fiercely for _just Harry_ , her _best friend_. Maybe Harry could be for Hermione what Hermione was to him. He was scared that she would get hurt, he was afraid for all of his friends what associating with him might mean for them. But even after all the danger and the destruction that being friends with Harry Potter entailed, Hermione had never left, nor given any indication that she had even thought about leaving. He probably wouldn't be able to get rid of her if he tried. He felt he would probably spend his whole life, if he ever survived this damn prophecy, trying to make it up to her, and to Ron, and to everyone, really.

She was _Hermione_ and he was so _stupid_. Even constant rumors and the unease of Viktor Krum and Cho Chang had not been enough for him to notice Hermione. But how could he possibly go back to his blissful state of ignorance now that he had known what it felt like to be kissed by Hermione Granger?

"Harry, are you alright? You look like you've got something on your mind," Hermione said, disrupting his inner turmoil. How was she always the one to notice when something was bothering him? How was it that she seemed to know him so well, like she was reading his mind, but not notice how much he fancied her? He was a terrible liar. Why would she ever think that he could be a good actor…

"I'm fine. I've got a lot to think about." He mustered up a small smile that he knew she did not buy for one second. She looked at him nervously and with so much concern, glancing at his scar and asking an unspoken question. "My scar's not bothering me, promise."

"If you're sure you're okay. We could always stay behind if you're not feeling up for Hogsmeade. Go somewhere and talk…" Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip and breaking Harry's heart even further.

"Oh no you don't, you're not getting out of this one unless you're getting me out of it too, Harry," interjected Ron, who appeared to be getting rather annoyed with one Lavender Brown, who was currently squealing with Parvati over… well, whatever it was that girls squealed about.

"No, no, I'll go…" Harry said, trailing off. Then, seriously, "Ron, if you don't want to be dating her, then why are you?"

Ron was taken aback, not because it was untrue that he had grown tired of snogging Lavender Brown – the other day he had been complaining to Harry, even, that his lips were perpetually chapped from the activity – but because Harry had asked the question so bluntly.

Harry did not press when his question remained unanswered.

"Are we all ready to go then?" asked Hermione awkwardly, eyes glancing back and forth between Harry and Ron perplexedly.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly, looking at Lavender and sighing. "Yeah, let's do this."

The carriage ride towards Hogsmeade proved to be such a tense affair that even Lavender had the sense not to giggle or gossip as she usually did. They rode mostly in silence, Harry and Hermione not holding hands as they had grown accustomed to doing, and Ron looking distinctly uncomfortable, for once, at the way Lavender had draped herself over his arm and all but melded to become one with his shoulder.

It wasn't until they were outside, walking in the small snow-covered village, that ironically conversation between them seemed to thaw.

"Honeydukes first, yeah? I've got to restock," Ron was saying, "And I'm sure Hermione needs more Sugar Quills." Ron nudged Hermione's shoulder with her own, and her cheeks, already pink from the cold, flushed even brighter.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get more," she replied, biting back a smile, but looking rather pleased that Ron had noticed something about her. Ron grinned at her, and Harry saw Lavender huff as she pulled on Ron's sleeve to direct his attention back onto her. Harry did his best to remain as invisible as possible as they entered the crowded shop.

They navigated their way through first years corralled near the Fizzing Whizbees and past Seamus and Neville, who were debating the pros and cons of cockroach clusters, and coming up with mostly cons. Ron steered clear of Spindle's Lick'o'Rish Spiders and, incidentally came to a display of Jelly Slugs, at which Hermione nudged him and in jest asked him if he could tell her if they tasted like _real_ slugs, to which Ron playfully told her to "shove off." Lavender had disappeared to obtain some Pink Coconut Ice and Harry slipped away under the pretense of Chocolate Frogs, but really he both wanted to allow them to spend some time alone and furthermore did not enjoy watching them look so happy together.

Upon leaving the register, where Harry and Lavender both noted rather unhappily that Ron insisted on paying for Hermione's sugar quills, they once again found themselves wandering the streets trying to decide where to go. Harry said nothing and Lavender was uncharacteristically silent as Hermione argued that she would like to go to Scrivenshaft's and Tomes and Scrolls and Ron vehemently petitioned for a trip to Zonko's.

That is, of course, until Lavender piped up that she and Hermione could meet Parvati at Gladrags and Ron and Harry could go to Zonko's and that they could all meet back at the Three Broomsticks at one o'clock to eat. Hermione looked like she was about to protest until Lavender interjected, voice tinged with exasperation, "Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. We'll go to the bloody bookshop too, Hermione."

And that was that. Harry, who had avoided touching Hermione in any shape or form since they had departed from the Great Hall that morning, gave her a quick one-armed hug and pressed a fleeting kiss to her temple before departing with Ron, who had clapped an annoyed Lavender on the back awkwardly and said, "Well, see you soon, Lav."

Once inside Zonko's, having had walked over in silence, Ron said in an odd mixture of uncertainty and conviction, "I think I'm going to break up with Lavender," he paused, glancing at Harry before returning to reading the label on a bar of Frog Spawn Soap. "Today," he added more firmly.

Unsure what to say, Harry merely quirked an eyebrow, silently indicating that Ron should continue with a slight nod of his head.

"Look, I know that I'm going to sound like a bloody git, but you and I both know that it wasn't going to last. No use in being with someone who I know I don't want a future with." Meandering their way towards the Dungbombs, Ron looked at Harry expectantly. "Well, aren't you going to say anything?"

"I think Hermione and I have run our course too… I don't think either of us should be stuck in relationships doomed to fail," Harry said as matter-of-factly as he could manage, continuing to the next display before realizing Ron hadn't followed him.

"What… er, what do you mean you and Hermione aren't working out?" asked Ron hesitantly. "You guys are disgusting together, and I mean that in a, you know, a covetous way more than I mean that you two are actually revolting, even though you are, a little bit." Ron sucked in a deep breath. "Bloody hell, Harry," he exhaled, "If you and Hermione can't make it work than what hope is there for the rest of us?" He looked at Harry, wide-eyed and pitying, obviously unsure what to do.

"Look, we're just better as friends. And besides, I'm pretty sure she fancies someone else, and I don't want to keep her from something she really wants, you know? I reckon, you know, it's better if things just go back to normal. She's like, er, like a sister, you know?" Harry silently cursed his assuredly flushed appearance, and excessive use of 'you know?' Of course Ron didn't know, how could he? "She deserves a more relationship anyway. She's _Hermione_. She deserves the best, and that bloody well isn't me."

"Mate, you are so deluded," said Ron, shaking his head. "I have a sister, and it would be disturbing if we ever looked at each other the way you and Hermione look at each other. You don't have a sibling, so I might understand why you got the two confused." Here Ron actually laughed at Harry, smiling sadly at him, pityingly.

"You fancy Hermione," stated Harry, like he was reciting a fact out of one of Hermione's many books. "And I reckon she fancies you, too. I don't want to get in the way of that. If anyone deserves to be happy it's you and Hermione. You both have already sacrificed enough for me. And besides, it's not like I ever really fancied Hermione, I was just, you know, helping a friend out…"

One dubious eyebrow disappeared into the red fringe on Ron's forehead. "Mate, you're not making any sense. What do you mean you never fancied Hermione? What do you mean Hermione fancies _me_? If you don't fancy each other, than why in the bloody hell are you dating?"

And so Harry told Ron everything, how Hermione had kissed him and burst into tears. How Ron hadn't believe that they weren't together and Hermione had concocted a very un-Hermione, convoluted plan to date, to drive Ron crazy. He conveniently left out that he had fancied Ron's sister, and that he had unwittingly fallen for Hermione in the process. Everything was already complicated enough.

"So you see, it's you she really wants to be with, and I never fancied her, so if you really do break up with Lavender, there's no reason why the two of you shouldn't be together…" Harry trailed off as he finished his story, Ron staring at him in disbelief.

"You're a much better actor than I ever would've given you credit for, Harry. You really had me fooled."

An awkward pause, and then Ron clapped him on the back. "You sure that you'd be okay if I asked Hermione out?"

"I would be relieved," Harry said, even though he knew it would break his adolescent heart, he was only partly lying. All he wanted was for his friends to be happy. He didn't want to get in their way. He couldn't make Hermione reciprocate his feelings.

"You really don't fancy her, not even a little bit?"

Harry hesitated only a fraction of a second. "No," he said, "Not even a little bit."

And as they walked towards the Three Broomsticks for lunch, Harry's felt his heart sink into his stomach, dread filling the empty space in his chest instead. _Goodbye, Hermione_ , he thought to himself. _It was nice while it lasted_.

They ran into Lavender and Hermione in front of the pub, and Ron pulled Lavender aside to talk to her, looking more serious than Harry had thought possible. While Ron broke up with Lavender, Harry pulled Hermione aside as well. "Ron's breaking up with Lavender," Harry informed her.

"He is?" asked Hermione, eyes widening, surprise written all over her face.

Harry nodded solemnly. "And for all intents and purposes, we're breaking up, too," he added. "I'm going to head back to the castle. You and Ron can have lunch together. When was the last time you two spent any time alone together?" Hermione immediately got this look on her face, like she was actually calculating the last time she and Ron had done anything without Harry with them. Harry smiled fondly at her, the sinking feeling in his stomach becoming heavier. "It was a rhetorical question, Hermione," he said softly, brushing a lose strand of hair that had fallen out of her plait behind her ear.

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione.

"Go get him, Hermione. I'll see you later, yeah?" replied Harry.

Hermione nodded, tilting her head and looking at him oddly. "See you later, Harry." She hugged him, kissed him on the cheek, and started towards the doors of the Three Broomsticks.

Harry watched Lavender head back towards Gladrags, looking angry, as Ron sheepishly met Hermione at the doors of the pub. They turned to him, and he waved, and then he left. Riding back to Hogwarts alone in a thestral-driven carriage, Harry resolved to let his friends be happy, and didn't even consider that maybe he should have a chance to be happy too.


	13. Chapter 13

Summary: In which Harry avoids both confrontation and his feelings.

Harry was brooding in the common room when Ginny entered through the portrait hole after returning from Hogsmeade. Dean, strangely enough, was absent. She collapsed next to Harry on the couch by the fire and sighed in distinct frustration.

"I concur," said Harry, and Ginny gave a short bark of laughter before burying her face into a decorative pillow. "What happened to your positive attitude from this morning?"

Ginny tilted her head to look at Harry, sighed dramatically, and then pronounced, "Boys."

"Trouble in paradise?" asked Harry.

Ginny smiled at him ruefully, and shook her head, "Trouble, but I would hardly say it transpired in paradise."

"Want to talk about it?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Dean's just… well I don't really know how I feel about Dean. Sometimes he's great, and then sometimes, he just… he gets under my skin. He thinks he knows what's best for me, but I can take care of myself. Romance is overrated, anyway." She looked over at him again, eyes softening. "Do you want to talk about you and Hermione?"

"What about me and Hermione?" asked Harry evasively.

"Well," she began slowly, "I went to lunch at the Three Broomsticks, sans Dean, and what should I find but a double date turned into a single date. Three break-ups in one day. I'd say that's an unfortunate day for love." Ginny blew some hair out of her face, and sighed again. "Really, are you okay? You both seemed so happy together… What happened?"

"It's complicated," Harry said.

"Always is," Ginny replied. She pat his hand sympathetically.

"Did they look happy?" Harry found himself asking.

"Did who look happy?"

He raised an unbelieving eyebrow. "You know who."

"Now that's a _really_ unfortunate day for love if You-Know-Who was wandering around Hogsmeade," she smirked at him.

"Ron and Hermione," Harry replied in exasperation, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

Ginny considered him carefully before responding. "They looked more confused than anything. And who can blame them. Today was a strange day." She shot him another sympathetic glance. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me about Hermione?"

"I'm sure."

A moment of silence.

"Up for a game of chess, Harry?"

He sighed deeply. "Sure, Gin. Sounds like fun." Despite this declaration, Harry could not even muster up enough happiness to smile.

Just as Ginny declared checkmate, Ron and Hermione appeared through the portrait hole, and Harry felt a pang in his chest. "Well now that we've reaffirmed my inferiority to your chess-playing skills, I think I'm going to be off. See you later, Gin."

Harry did not wait for Ginny to respond, nor did he spare so much as another glance at his two best friends before he all but leapt up and disappeared upstairs into the boy's dormitory.

He drew the curtains around his four poster bed, kicked off his shoes, and removed his homework from the backpack at the foot of his bed. He sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed, trying desperately to concentrate on Transfiguration, and _not_ his two best friends, who were probably now more than friendly. He took a deep breath, and while he knew he could not avoid them forever, he resolved that he would rather sneak through the common room and down to the kitchens in his invisibility cloak than sit through dinner with them. At least today. He couldn't see Hermione, wearing _his_ sweater, knowing that just that morning he had had some kind of tenuous, fraudulent claim on being with her. He couldn't stomach seeing them together yet, nor did he trust himself to adequately feign the appropriate amount of happiness at the ineluctable development of their friendship to relationship. He did not trust himself not be angry with Ron.

So he sat, staring at the pages of his textbook, thinking about anything but the task he had set himself to. It was not long before his mind had begun to wander. He envisioned Hermione and Ron, so much happier than before. In itself this might not have been such a terrible thing, for all Harry could ever hope for his friends was happiness. It was that the picture did not include him. They would be so much better off without him. Their lives would lack so much of the calamity and the destruction that plagued Harry's own life. They would be much safer. And if they were to stop caring about Harry – if they were not a trio, the components of which were inextricably tied together – Harry had to admit that at least if he died (for really, what chance did he have of defeating Voldemort?) perhaps if they had already learned to get on fine without them it wouldn't hurt them so much.

Harry did not entertain these thoughts for long. It wasn't that he doubted that their lives would be easier and better without him, it was that his would be so much worse off. And even Harry, with his tendencies towards heroism and his attempts to be noble and his "saving-people-thing", knew that Ron and Hermione cared deeply about him. Being their friend, not pushing them away, was a very brave thing to do, he decided. It was very brave not to forget to live even in the face of the fear and anxieties rooted into his every thought and action.

That did not mean that he was yet brave enough to go downstairs and see them, however.

He waited another thirty or so minutes, legs crossed and leaning back against his headboard, before he went to the foot of his bed, rummaged around inside his trunk, and pulled out his invisibility cloak. He opened and closed the door to the dormitory quietly, and descended the stairs noiselessly.

At the foot of the stairs he could hear Ron gloating as he took someone's knight in a game of wizard's chess, before he heard Ginny muttering expletives under her breath. He stepped out into the common room, and was relieved to find that Hermione was nowhere in sight, and slipped out of the portrait hole just as Neville was coming in.

He took his time meandering through the corridors to the kitchens. When he arrived he tickled the pear and entered and was almost immediately overwhelmed by Dobby, who had a teetering pile of hats on his head and was wearing two horribly mismatched socks. He thought of Hermione and his felt a painful tug in his chest.

"Harry Potter has come to see Dobby! What can Dobby do for you, Harry Potter, sir?!" squeaked the diminutive house elf, large eyes gleaming as he looked up at Harry in admiration.

"Er… I just came for some dinner. I didn't much feel like going to the Great Hall tonight," said Harry.

Dobby immediately set to work providing Harry with sandwiches and roast beef and mince pies, and when Harry was done eating Dobby insisted that he stay for a rather large portion of treacle tart.

Harry conversed with the over-eager elf, spirits considerably higher, though he could not seem to get thoughts of Ron and Hermione kissing out of his head no matter how hard he tried to pay attention to Dobby.

Eventually he left and found himself in front of the Fat Lady, but there remained considerable time before curfew. He mustered up his courage and whispered the password, slipping inside, though no one seemed to notice his entrance. Ginny was gone and Ron was now playing a violent game of exploding snap with the rest of his dorm mates. _Good_ , thought Harry, _I'll have the dormitory to myself_. Hermione was still nowhere to be found. Harry couldn't help but be secretly relieved.

He climbed up the stairs, removing his invisibility cloak as the door closed behind him, and pulled open his bed curtains to replace the cloak inside his trunk.

Imagine his surprise, then, when he was greeted with the sight of Hermione sitting nervously on his bed.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, jumping up hastily and looking as if she was going to move forward to hug him. She seemed to remember herself, however, and leaned back on her feet away from Harry, nervously playing with her hands and looking at her feet.

Harry was too shocked to say anything.

Hermione looked around the room nervously and cleared her throat. "I… er, well I was just worried about you, you left so quickly when I got back and you didn't even come down for dinner and I've been looking for you… and eventually I decided to just wait here because you had to return eventually…" she trailed off, looking up at him for the first time since he had discovered her. She tilted her head and waited for him to respond. "Oh, Harry, are you alright?" she asked, sounding supremely concerned.

Harry shook his head a little, trying to shake himself out of his reverie. "Yeah, Hermione, I'm fine," Harry choked out unconvincingly. "So, erm, you and Ron, then?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, launching herself forward to hug Harry with so much force she nearly knocked him flat. Harry wrapped his arms around her instinctively, reveling in the comfort that her embrace seemed to bring, in the instantaneous way it calmed him. He breathed deeply, sighing.

At least, he was calm until her realized that Hermione had begun to cry. "Er… Hermione?" he asked uncertainly, stiffening as Hermione held him tightly around the neck.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" she said in response, sniffling and wiping her eyes from where her head was resting on Harry's shoulder. "I just feel so terrible for what I've put you through."

It was stupid, Harry knew, but he couldn't help it when his heart involuntary sped up, and he briefly thought that maybe Hermione was going to say that she felt terrible for letting them pretend to be together because she, too, had realized that she wished it wasn't pretend at all.

"You've got so much to worry about already, and here I am – dragging you into my dramatics, making things needlessly messy, putting you in the middle of your two best friends – for someone so smart it really is the stupidest plan I've ever brought to fruition…" she muttered, hiccupping slightly, still tucked into the crook of his neck. Her breath was warm on his neck, and he felt the wetness of her tears soaking through his shirt. He held his breath, waiting for her continue. "I'm so sorry!" she cried again, a fresh round of tears starting up.

"Shhhh…" Harry whispered gently, sitting them both down on the bed, Hermione still enveloped in his arms. He tentatively reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. In a moment of forethought, Harry reached up and closed the bed curtains again, and awkwardly removed his wand to quickly utter _Muffliato_ under his breath. He was forcefully reminded of a time not too long ago when he had used the same spell to muffle very different sounds.

"What happened at Hogsmeade?" Harry asked quietly. "Did something happen to upset you?"

"N-n-no!" Hermione stuttered. "Ron and I sat down, and we were having a normal conversation for the first time in _ages_ ," she began, "and then he tells me you told him everything, and that he just has one question. And so he asks, 'How could we both be so stupid?' And then we both laughed at how ridiculous everything had become, and how things never seem to be simple, and then he kissed me."

"He… he did?" Harry asked, stomach plummeting. He's not surprised, but he's acutely aware that she's still wearing his sweater and that she's pressed close against him, and he feels a big crushing weight on his chest knowing that hours ago Ron was in the same position, engaging in an activity of a very different nature.

He feels Hermione nod and sigh against him. She pulls back from him, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. "Suddenly it was _so_ _simple_ , Harry. I was so nervous and so happy. I thought my chest was just going to burst. And then Ginny came in and we had a very awkward conversation, but we didn't tell her that we had both just broken up with our respective partners and then wasted no time in snogging in the Three Broomsticks… it wasn't long before she left. And then we wandered around Hogsmeade, holding hands and having proper conversation and I hadn't realized how much I missed my other best friend, you know?" she was almost whispering now. Her cheeks were tear-stained but her eyes were gleaming for a different reason now. A smile was tugging at the corner of her lips.

"But then we got back, and we came in and you took off, and I was so worried that you were mad at me. I'm still worried. I know I've made everything so difficult for you, and I know that while Ron was with Lavender we never were all together, the three of us. But you're my best friend, Harry, and I'm always going to want to spend time with you. I don't want this to make anything worse – I don't want this new development to be like the last few weeks. And nothing is more important than helping you with Voldemort and your lessons with Dumbledore. I'm afraid we've lost track of all that lately." Her smile was gone now, and her eyes were searching Harry's face, looking for some confirmation that he was okay with all of this.

He wasn't, of course. He wished that he didn't have this damn prophecy weighing down on his shoulders, he wished that Sirius were still here, and his parents, and that Hermione loved him, god damn it. He selfishly wanted Hermione to want him, so that one thing in his life, for once, could work out in his favor.

But now was not the time to throw a pity party, or give into the angst that he was so prone to. A negative attitude wouldn't change anything, and it certainly wouldn't make Hermione happy. And lately he had found that her happiness was all he really cared about.

So he swallowed hard and found his courage, gathered her up in his arms, kissed the top of her head, and said, "I'm happy that you're happy, Hermione."

She beamed up at him before hugging him tightly back. _And for now_ , Harry thought, _that's going to have to be enough for me_.

A/N: Having a difficult time finding inspiration for this story, but I swear we'll be making progress soon. Also, to anyone questioning the ridiculous nature of the whole convoluted scheme that got our trio into the mess in the first place – it is out of character, and unlikely to put it mildly, that Hermione would propose such a thing and that Harry would possibly go along with it. I probably could have come up with something much more convincing to advance the plot I had conceived. Instead you'll just have to take some solace in that at least all the characters in this story find the whole thing rather ridiculous and out of character, too.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Between the Quidditch after party that started it all and the Slughorn Christmas Party weeks have past, and there's even been time for a Hogsmeade weekend. Clearly the pacing and timing of this story is warped when placed next to the original on which it is based. My apologies (but I'm still not changing it).

Summary: In which something terrible happens to Harry and no one is surprised.

Hermione and Ron had begun dating, and Harry could only surmise that he was for once experiencing a bit of good fortune as their public displays of affection were not much more than hand holding, pecks on the cheek, and the occasional warm embrace. If they had exhibited the same fervor for snogging in public as Lavender Brown Harry was quite certain he would die from exposure.

That did not mean that he felt okay, or that he was comfortable with it, or that he didn't experience a tightening in his chest every time Ron said something sweet and Hermione smiled shyly up at him, practically glowing with happiness. Had she ever looked at him that way?

He was trying very hard not to brood, to act normally and to spend time with them, the three of them together again as they had been before. He just could not seem to talk normally to them, however, especially not with Hermione. He answered all of her questions tersely, his frustration evident, as if he were in an argument with her. Hermione noticed though – of course she did. She would glance his way constantly, concern practically exuding from the furrowed brow on her countenance, understanding written all over her face whenever he snapped at her. She would reach over and squeeze his hand when he was particularly not himself, but Harry was quite sure that she took his brooding as a consequence of the prophecy, and all the pressure he was under; she didn't really understand at all.

He had had a few meetings with Dumbledore learning about Tom Riddle's harrowed past, and he had told Ron and Hermione everything. He had also taken to obsessing about Draco Malfoy's whereabouts with renewed vigor, partly out of his own foreboding feelings about it, but mostly to get away from the new item that consisted of his two best friends. Even Ron had not maintained his usual obliviousness and had on more than one occasion asked him if his scar was bothering him and if he was okay. Harry had to exert a great deal of effort not to snap at him, too.

Harry only took solace in the fact that Hermione had not yet revoked her invitation to go with her to Slughorn's party. His solace did not last long, however.

"Oh, Harry!" she said, breathless and smiling, nearly running into him while exiting the portrait hole, the books in her arms almost falling as they shifted precariously. "I've been meaning to talk to you actually." She seemed a little hesitant, and Harry felt a pang in his chest for snapping at her at all. How was she supposed to know that he had stopped pretending to love her long before they had stopped pretending to date? His stomach warmed and bubbled hopefully and his heart seemed to jump into his throat and he tried desperately to quell his feelings for her.

"What is it?"

"It's about Slughorn's party, actually," she said, tucking a piece of hair absently behind her hair and adjusting the bag on her shoulder. Harry felt his stomach plummet.

"What about it?"

"Well, just, you're already part of the Slug Club, so you'll be going anyway. But Ron has no other way of attending besides coming with me so, if it's quite alright with you, I thought I'd ask him to be my date."

"Oh, er, well I suppose…" Harry stuttered, cursing the unease evident in his voice.

"And this way you'll be free to take someone else! I've ruined your dating prospects quite enough the past few weeks. It's the least I could do. There are loads of girls who want to go with you. Romilda Vane has been trying to slip you a love potion." She said this last sentence with no small amount of disdain. "She's only interested because she thinks you're the Chosen One."

"But I _am_ the Chosen One," Harry replied, allowing himself a small smile.

"We're going to have to deflate your head if you're ego gets any bigger," said Hermione, rolling her eyes and shoving him lightly with her shoulder. "You're sure you don't mind?"

"No, no. Not at, er, not at all." Hermione beamed at him.

"Well I've got to be going. Ron and I are working on Transfiguration in the library. Would you like to come?"

"Er, well, I'd love to, but I've got to begin my search for a date to a certain event, it seems, so maybe I'd rather not." Harry replied.

"Oh, nonsense. What better place to find a nice girl than in the library?" responded Hermione, linking one arm through his and turning them around to begin the trek through the corridors.

 _You've no idea_ , thought Harry ruefully.

They passed by Luna in one corridor, who was attempting to levitate a pair of shoes down from near the ceiling. They waved politely at her and she smiled in return, and then Harry and Hermione continued their meandering walk to the library. A minute later Harry stopped abruptly, an idea budding in his brain, and said "I'll catch up with you, Hermione." He unlinked their arms and turned to start walking back the way they came.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, and he turned back around to see her looking at him, head tilted and an odd look on her face.

"I think I know who I'm going to take. Someone… someone cool." He said, turning back towards Hermione. "I'll, err… I'll catch up later. Have fun with Ron."

And then he turned and left, and after a moments pause heard Hermione's footsteps receding in the other direction. He let out a breath. This was not the first time that he had made some excuse to avoid being with Ron and Hermione _together_ , however it was one of the few times where his excuse was actually true.

He found Luna in the same corridor she had been in when they first passed by her. "Oh, hello Harry. Where are you off to in such a rush?"

"Er, to find you actually. Would you, er, like to come to Slughorn's Christmas party with me? As friends?" Better to just get it out there, he supposed.

Her large, protuberant eyes surveyed him knowingly, but she smiled widely. "That sounds lovely, Harry."

Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

"Um, great… I'll, er, I'll see you then."

Harry put his hands in his robe pockets and began to steer himself back in the direction of the common room, when Luna said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry paused mid-step and turned around. "Talk about what?" he replied, meeting Luna's omniscient gaze hesitantly.

"About how you're in love with Hermione," she said as plainly and matter-of-factly as if she was commenting that two plus two equals four. A fact that is so obvious it often does not even need to be said allowed for people to know its truth.

"What! Er, no, that's not, um… I'm not in love with… Well, I mean…" Harry sputtered incoherently, indignant at the accusation, regardless of its veracity.

Luna raised one unimpressed eyebrow in response. Harry sighed loudly in frustration and raked a hand through his already untidy hair. He slid his back down the corridor wall until he was sitting there dejectedly. "I didn't _mean_ to do it. It wasn't supposed to be _real_."

He didn't elaborate on these vague declarations, but Luna seemed to know exactly to what he was referring. She took a seat next to him on the cold corridor floor. "It can't be easy, seeing her with him," she said softly, empathetically.

Harry shook his head and pulled his knees to his chest. He put his chin on his knees and blew air through his teeth and sighed again. It was the hardest thing, and Harry knew a thing or two about life being hard. He hoped that Luna didn't think he was trying to use her to get back at Hermione, since they sometimes clashed. The only times he had ever seen Luna look even remotely angry had been at Hermione's provocation. It wasn't as if he and Hermione had even _really_ been together. He just, well, he just thought it'd be nice to go with a friend. He opened his mouth to say all of these things, but before he could Luna was already talking.

"I know," she said, with all the gravity and brevity Harry felt weighing down on his chest. Somehow, Harry didn't doubt that she did.

A/N: As a humanities major almost ¾ of the way done with her college career you'd think I'd have the proofreading thing down by now. But I don't. Please just use autocorrect in your head if it bothers you. Also, I appreciate all your feedback and suggestions about plot, characterization, setting… anything you'd like to see happen, really, or even just hearing that you enjoy what I've created. I know where we're headed, but I'm not 100% set on all the details of how we'll get there. Every bit helps.


	15. Chapter 15

Summary: In which there is a party and an explosion.

With Christmas and the party fast approaching Harry found himself having to avoid the clusters of mistletoe hung in various hallways by taking detours in secret passageways, as gaggles of girls had taken to following him around and attempting to corner him under the parasitic plant. Ron, who might once have found these detours excuse for jealousy, rather found this conundrum of Harry's cause for hilarity and roared with laughter whenever one of these incidences occurred. Harry preferred laughing Ron to moody, aggressive Ron, but it came at a price. Ron had begun making strategic use of the plant, and had taken to stopping Hermione in the middle of walking just to have an excuse to kiss her. Unsurprisingly, Harry was miserable.

Luna was very excited to attend the party with Harry as friends, and Ginny seemed especially pleased that Harry had invited her. Both of them were constantly beaming at him. A few months ago this might have sent Harry's heart aflutter, but the enthusiasm he managed to muster was minimal. Ron, on the other hand, was in disbelief. _"Anyone! You could have taken anyone, and you're taking Loony Lovegood?"_ he had said. It's not like Harry could tell his best mate that he hadn't wanted to take anyone, he had wanted to take his girlfriend.

Currently Harry was sitting in Transfiguration, with Ron separating him and Hermione, as they attempted human transfigurations. They had mirrors in front of them and were attempting to change the color of their eyebrows. Ron had somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar mustache in a disastrous first attempt, and Hermione was laughing at him, though not unkindly. Harry was too – it was the stupidest thing Harry had ever seen. He refrained from saying anything, though. He felt his voice atrophying with disuse, but he was afraid to disrupt the peace that had ascended over Hermione and Ron since they had gotten together. He didn't want to say anything stupid, or anything he'd regret.

Whereas a week ago Harry was sure that Hermione's laughter would have resulted in a row between his two best friends, it appeared that their new, more amorous relationship was not so volatile. Ron laughed right along with her, even when she transfigured the mustache a bright, neon yellow.

When Transfiguration ended, their last class of the day, Harry rushed past his two best friends, and speeded toward the common room. They had been especially nauseating today, and Harry felt, for the first time, angry instead of despairing. He had really thought that Hermione had at least felt a part of what he felt for her. Lately, as torturous as it was, he could not seem to stop replaying the broom closet in his head. She didn't have to kiss him back. There was no one around to see, no Ron to make jealous or appearances to keep up. She had _trembled_ against him, he had done that to her. He couldn't get her flushed face and wild hair outside of his head. And the words he hadn't gotten to say as Ron had interrupted them. _"Hermione I…"_ he had said. _Hermione, I love you_. He amended in his head.

He was in his room for over an hour before Ron appeared in the doorway. "You alright, mate?" he asked. "You seemed like you were in a hurry earlier."

"Fine," Harry replied, wincing at how severe his voice sounded. _Get a hold of yourself, Potter_.

"Really? Because one of your eyebrows is still pink, mate."

"Is it?" Harry hadn't noticed, he had been so preoccupied.

Ron gave him a calculating look, a look usually reserved for chess and when discussing Quidditch strategies. "Hermione will set it right. I'll go get her."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Ron clearly thought something was wrong, no reason to give him clues to puzzle it out for himself. Instead he nodded, and Ron rolled his eyes and exited the room.

Not a minute later Hermione was standing in the doorway instead, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face. Harry quirked an eyebrow at her and she smirked.

"Looking good, Potter," she said. Harry hated that even this simple interaction quickened the blood in his veins.

"I was thinking of keeping it like that, you know. Luna would probably dye her eyebrow to match." He shrugged and watched Hermione fight back a smile. Damn her.

"Nonsense. Give me five seconds and you'll be right as rain." She closed the door, and Harry vaguely registered that Ron had not accompanied her back to the dormitory. She came and sat next to him at the foot of his bed, and traced his mismatched eyebrow with her thumb. "You look almost as ridiculous as Ron did with a mustache."

"That mustache was the stupidest thing I've ever seen," said Harry, and Hermione laughed.

She pulled out her wand and, as promised, five seconds later his eyebrows were restored to their original inky black color.

"Are you okay, Harry? Lately you've seemed, I don't know, distant. Brooding. Is something bothering you? Do you want to talk about it?" She lowered her voice, "Is it, you know, the _prophecy_?"

For once Harry didn't feel hope or despair or desire at Hermione's concern for his well-being. Instead, Harry felt the anger he had felt in Transfiguration bubble back up to the surface. How could she be so blind to how he felt? What she did to him? She had apologized for the whole debacle, sure. And yet he had found himself comforting _her_ when she had hurt _him_. Hermione had gotten everything she had wanted. Ron was her boyfriend, Harry remained her best friend, and nothing had exploded as it probably should have in the aftermath of her ridiculous plan. Except that Harry's heart was breaking.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he responded quietly. She was staring straight at him, right into his eyes. Wasn't it written clearly there, in his emerald orbs, how much he loved her? Her brown eyes betrayed nothing but concern.

"Harry…" she said hesitantly, reaching over to grab his hand.

He sprang upward abruptly, pulling his hand away. "I said I was fine, okay?" he snapped. "I'll see you at Slughorn's party." Ignoring the shocked, hurt look on Hermione's face, he left the room, descended the stairs, and exited the common room. Running away again. Merlin, it's like he was trying to ruin everything.

He did not see Hermione again until he was at the party. He was with Luna, dressed in an odd fashion, though Harry thought she looked quite nice. And really, Luna was the only thing keeping his spirits up, between her belief that Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire and that the aurors were part of a Rotfang Conspiracy to take down the Ministry with a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease. Slughorn had insisted on introducing Harry to various important persons since the moment he arrived, and currently Luna was engaged in polite conversation with a tipsy Professor Trelawney, and Harry couldn't stop looking at Ron and Hermione, looking very happy together across the room.

They saw Harry looking and Ron smiled and waved. They began making their way towards him through the crowd. They both looked at him with no small amount of unease, and he supposed he couldn't blame them based on his behavior around them earlier.

"Hiya, Harry, Luna," said Ron, clapping Harry on the back with the hand not wound around Hermione's waist and nodding to his date. "Slughorn sure knows how to throw a party, eh?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry nodded and Luna began prattling on about their encounter with the vampire, but he was not really listening. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and mouthed silently, "Alright?"

He just shrugged in response, to which Hermione frowned. "Harry, come with me to get drinks?" she asked, though from her tone it was obvious that she wanted to talk to him in private.

"Alright, then," he replied, and he nodded again to Ron and Luna before making his way back through the crowd with Hermione. They didn't go to the drink table, however, as Hermione led them out of Slughorn's office and to the nearest empty corridor.

"Harry, what's been going on with you?" she asked as soon as they were alone, hands on her hips, face tilted up towards him in disapproval.

"I told you, Hermione, I'm fine…" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off, taking a step towards him.

"Honestly, Harry, don't give me that load of hogwash again. You've been acting oddly for days. Since Hogsmeade, practically. Just talk to me! I'm your best friend!" she said hotly, stepping even closer to him, heat radiating from her agitated form, hands gesticulating in frustration.

"Exactly, that's the problem!" Harry exploded, and Hermione took a surprised step back, hands dropping to her sides. "Merlin, Hermione, you've been driving me bloody insane for weeks! You always seem to know what I'm thinking, but you have no idea that I can't get your bloody lips out of my head! Bloody hell, Hermione! How good of an actor do you think I am?"

Hermione's eyes were wide, mouth comically open, and she opened and closed it a few times without saying anything. Harry kept going. "And now you and Ron go around parading how _happy_ you are, and you have no idea! God damn it, Hermione!" He slammed the side of his fist against the stone wall of the hallway, and the sound resounded in the empty corridor. "I'm bloody in love with you and you're in love with our best friend! I know that's what I signed up for, and maybe I'm being a git, but since when have you been so dim that you didn't puzzle it together? Don't you see what you're doing to me?"

His chest was heaving, hands trembling, and he hadn't realized that while he had been yelling he had stepped even closer to Hermione, who stood frozen in a stunned silence. They were almost touching, nervous breath mingling in the space between them, eyes locked and unmoving. Hermione looked upward almost imperceptibly, and Harry followed her gaze, noticing for the first time the offensive mistletoe directly overhead. He returned his gaze back to Hermione and felt his anger dissipate with the end of his outburst. Her eyes, which only a moment ago had been wide with shock, had softened, and her eyes gaze dropped slowly to his lips and back up to his eyes in what felt like slow motion.

All at once the spell was broken and her lips were on his, hands tangling in his hair with a frenzied desperation, and for the second time he was pushing her up against a wall with disbelief that she was kissing him at all. It was like he was reliving the broom closet, and he had to repeatedly remind himself that he wasn't imagining it this time. It was actually happening.

He pulled away for a second, hands protectively on her waist. "God _damn it_ , Hermione," he breathed.

"Shut up, Harry," she said, equally as breathless, and pulled him back down to kiss him again with renewed fervor.

"Bloody hell," added a new voice softly, and Harry abruptly pulled away from Hermione, hands pressed against the stone wall on either side of her, to find an impassive Luna Lovegood and a clearly shocked Ron Weasley.

A/N: Hermione's side of the story coming soon to a computer near you.


	16. Chapter 16

Summary: In which there's a whole lot of talking but not a whole lot is said.

"Ron… I… I can…" Hermione was sputtering, looking very stupid, she was sure, with her mouth open and eyes wide. Like a child who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Oh, you can explain, can you? I'd love to see what kind of rationalization the two of you come up with for this one." Anger was creeping into the softness his voice had held upon first catching them in the hallway.

Surprisingly, Hermione was nearly sure this wasn't sarcasm. He actually wanted to hear what happened – so different from his usual tantrums. React first, questions later… His arms were crossed over his chest and for a moment Hermione fleetingly thought that he looked a little like Mrs. Weasley when she was angry, like he had some authority and justification, which rarely was true of Ron's temper. She didn't suppose he'd believe that it had been an innocent mistletoe kiss... _Oh Ron, I'm so sorry. I've made such a mess of things._

Hermione nodded, and then realized that Harry's arms were still on either side of her, effectively pinning her to the wall. He hadn't moved, hadn't said anything. He was just looking blankly and dumbly at Ron, avoiding her gaze entirely. She couldn't blame him. This mess was all hers.

It was Luna who seemed to pull Harry out of his stupor. "There's an empty classroom right over here," she said, grabbing Harry by the elbow and pulling him along. "A good a place as any to talk." Her voice maintained its floaty, ephemeral cadence but it was more serious than Hermione had ever heard it. Luna looked at her, a wide-eyed penetrating look, that betrayed no judgment or kindness.

Ron shuffled into the empty room behind Harry and Luna, but Hermione still felt pinned to the wall, her waist burning where Harry had protectively gripped her with his hands. Ron had never touched her like that in the short time they'd been together – like he would die if he wasn't touching every inch of her all at once. Their short-lived romance (for he certainly wouldn't want to be with her now) was sweet and warm. Ron made her happy, he did. When they were together, they weren't yelling at each other or purposefully trying to upset one another. They were affectionate and held hands and it was all very nice… but when Harry held her hand it was comfortable and easy, too, and no matter how many times he did it she felt her skin tingle with his touch and her heart speed up imperceptibly. There was none of that with Ron.

She and Harry, well, they'd always been rather ride or die. She'd follow him anywhere – the Ministry was proof enough of that. With Ron they both often let their stubbornness and their tempers prevent them from being there when the other needed them. She supposed Ron and Harry did that as well. But her and Harry always put that stuff aside when it mattered. She wondered if he'd be able to do that now. How did she not notice that he loved her? _"Don't you see what you're doing to me?"_ Harry had said. And she hadn't. Observational, logical, intelligent Hermione… and yet she was so _stupid_.

All of this didn't matter, of course. The pros and cons of both of the boys she loved, in one sense of the word or another… what did that matter when she had ruined both of the relationships, anyway? She had hurt both of them and there was truly no one to blame for their folly but her. She just hadn't known that pretending to date Harry would feel so much like loving him for real, nor that being with Ron for real would feel so much like pretending. She had misjudged everything.

The worst of it all was that Ron had seemed to be getting used to Harry and Hermione together, but they had both told him that it was all a ruse. She had said that it was all for show, that she didn't like Harry like that, that she wanted to be with Ron. She had said all of that to him when she asked in the Three Broomsticks, and she had really thought that she meant it. When she had first kissed Ron her stomach had bubbled contentedly. But it was not long before she realized how different it felt to be with Ron, how what she felt for Harry was so much _more_ , in a way. She loved Ron, she needed his friendship, and she truly didn't know what to do without him. She had managed without him before, this was true, as they had had their fair share of rows and times where they refused to speak to each other. And she felt the same way about Harry, except that without Harry she was sure that she wouldn't be able to function. She needed him in a different way. She was so dependent on him. Hermione was not sure she knew who she was without Harry Potter, and now she was going to lose him. Both of them. How had she managed to hurt them so badly?

All of this terrified her. She was barely of age, and what 17-year-old knew anything about real love? What 17-year-old had been through half of the things they had been through? And she was going to lose it all because she had manufactured the circumstances that caused her best friends to fancy her. Honestly, Merlin knew how she could be seen as desirable to either of them in the first place. Yet here they were. She wondered if perhaps Harry would never have fallen in love with her, or her with him, if she hadn't kissed him so long ago in that unlocked classroom. If she hadn't proposed a scheme so stupid. Or was this feeling an inevitability? Would this have come about some way or another? Was there a such thing as fate – are things meant to happen as they do? Merlin, Harry had said that he _loved_ her. He was _in love_ with her. He had so many other things to be worrying about and here he was, saying he couldn't stop thinking about her _lips_ of all things…

"Hermione…" the soft voice pulled her back to the present, where she had slid down the wall without noticing and was trembling. Harry was looking at her with a concern she was certain she didn't deserve from the doorway of the classroom. "Are you coming?"

She nodded but didn't move to stand up. Her head was spinning. _Your mess, Hermione. Your mess._ Now she had to clean it up. Merlin, had she screwed up.

She vaguely registered Harry pulling her up by the elbow, and before she really knew what was happening she was seated at the front of the empty classroom and Luna was closing the door behind her as she departed. A part of Hermione had hoped she would stay to mediate the whole debacle.

Ron looked expectantly at her, one eyebrow arched, arms still crossed. His look seemed to say, _"Get on with it, then."_ She didn't know what to say. She bit her lip nervously, feeling as if she were on trial. _You have been accused of breaking my heart_ , she thought idly. _How do you plead?_ Hermione noticed for the first time that behind Ron's stern countenance his lip was trembling slightly. _Guilty_ , she thought miserably.

Ron sighed. Harry stood in the corner of the room trying to make himself invisible, looking anywhere except his two best friends. "What the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron asked, voice low and dangerous when it was clear Hermione wasn't going to begin of her own volition. "I thought you both said there was nothing there! That you were just pretending! And then I find the two of you snogging in the middle of a bloody hallway like your bloody lives depended on it?! Just tell me the truth, for Merlin's sake!" His hands were in fists now, shaking by his sides, nostrils flaring and blue eyes crackling with undisguised anger. He was staring straight at Hermione, who had a hard time meeting Ron's eyes, fiddling with her hands in her laps.

She was a terrible person.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, a pantomime of her reaction to Harry's outburst only ten or twenty minutes ago. "I'm in love with Hermione," Harry's voice said suddenly from across the room.

Ron whirled around to face Harry, eyes narrowed and neck flushed, took a few strides with his long legs, and punched Harry squarely in the jaw.

"Ron, no!" Hermione said, seeming to finally find her voice. She jumped up from her chair, knocking it over in the process, and rushed to the corner of the room where Harry had just pulled his fist back and punched Ron in return. "Stop it! Both of you!" Hermione yelled shrilly, pulling Ron away from Harry before he could do anything else. Ron yanked his arm out of Hermione's grip, eyes not leaving Harry as he glared murderously.

"What the bloody hell do you mean you're in love with her?!" Ron roared, his whole face nearly the color of his hair now.

"I _mean_ ," Harry returned, his voice rising now too, looking angrier than Hermione had seen him since Sirius died, "That you've been a prat to her for years now, when she _clearly_ fancied you, and the only way you were able to get your act together is when _I_ all but _told you_ what to do! Love isn't about stubbornness! It's not about getting your way all the time, it's not intentionally hurting each other because you can't work up the courage to tell them how you really feel!" Harry's chest was heaving and Ron looked like he wanted to punch Harry again.

"You always get everything!" Ron was saying now, Hermione forgotten as they screamed at each other. "I couldn't just have this one thing! When you were _together_ ," he said this with particular vehemence, "I tried to be understanding! I wanted you to be happy! And the minute I finally have what I want you come in and steal it! You had your chance and you blew it, and you couldn't just let it be!"

"Hermione's not some prize to be won, Ron! She's not something that can be stolen," Harry said, drawing out his wand, "And _she_ kissed _me_!"

Ron was reaching for his wand now, too, but Hermione pulled out her own and produced a shield between them before they could fire off any spells. "Stop it! Both of you, stop it!" Hermione yelled, tears starting to spill from her eyes. _Damn it!_ She thought, cursing herself for crying again. She did this. This was _her_ fault. She shouldn't be allowed to cry about it.

Both boys turned to her now, after appearing to forget that she was there at all, and both of their faces fell at the sight of her tears. "I didn't _mean_ for any of this to happen!" she found herself saying, voice hysterical, crying harder now. She stamped her foot in frustration. "I'm so _sorry_ ," she added, hiccupping. "I didn't me...me…mean to!" She stuttered again, lip quivering. Both of their wands were hanging by their sides now, both unsure of what to do. "I love you b…b…both! You're my best friends! I m…m…made such a mess of e…everything!" She was openly sobbing now, barely comprehensible as she stuttered through her tears, trying to apologize, unable to explain everything she was feeling right now at how badly she had screwed everything up. She felt like she couldn't _breathe_ , and then she was hyperventilating. She felt so _stupid_ , and so _embarrassed_. And 100% unworthy of any of their concern or sympathy.

It was Harry who moved first, pulling her into a tight hug, smoothing her hair down, allowing them both to sink to the floor as she cried. Ron ran his hand through his hair in a mannerism she had always associated with Harry and sat down with them. Harry was whispering in her ear, saying _he_ was sorry and telling her that it would be _okay_. It was all so _wrong_.

She pushed him away, sobbing harder. "N…n…no! I don't deserve it! Stop being so nice to m…m…me! I ruined everything!" she said.

"What a load of bullshit," Ron said, and Hermione inhaled so sharply she hiccupped.

"W…what?" she asked shakily.

"I said, what a load of bullshit." His voice was low and bitter now, the anger he had displayed earlier only residual now. "We all ruined this. We all did stupid shit, Hermione. I dated _Lavender Brown_ , for Merlin's sake. If I hadn't done that maybe all of this could've been avoided to begin with." He sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. "I'm sorry that I hurt you," he said, quietly, grabbing her hand and closing his eyes. "And I'm sorry I punched you, Harry," he added, cracking one eye open to glance at him. "But not _that_ sorry."

"I'm sorry that I lied to both of you." Harry was speaking now, mimicking Ron as he leaned back against the wall. "We could've avoided all of this if I had just answered your questions honestly." He blew out a shaky breath. "I didn't want to get away of your happiness, but I did anyway."

Ron tilted his head to study Hermione's face and squeezed her hand. "If it's your fault Hermione, then it's our fault, too. You can't help how we feel about you."

A pregnant pause. Hermione knew it was her turn to talk, but she didn't know what to say.

"I got in the way of your friendship. I pitted you two against each other in the first place."

"I went along with it," amended Harry. "I could've told you that it was a stupid idea, but I didn't."

Another pause.

"You kissed Harry?" Ron asked quietly. Hermione shut her eyes tightly. She nodded. Ron inhaled sharply, then breathed out, "Why?"

She felt Harry sit forward next to her, and Ron seemed to have stopped breathing. _Because I love him._ _Oh, Ron, I'm so_ sorry.

A/N: The aftermath is coming. And, hopefully soon, a resolution.

A/N: Nothing brings me greater joy (or motivates me more) than reading your reviews…


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: After an inexcusably long hiatus I give you the next installment of our tale.

Summary: In which Hermione finally gets her shit together.

"Why, Hermione?" Ron repeated as he exhaled the breath he had been holding when it was clear Hermione was not going to answer. He sounded breathless. Hermione vaguely wondered if he felt as light-headed as she did.

The thing was, she didn't _know_ why she had done it. She had lost her composure. Hermione had always been able to balance her heart and her brain – compassion and emotional sensitivity and caring about things with cool logic and a level head. Or at least she had thought so, until it had all unraveled and she seemed to be nothing more but a bumbling, emotional, reckless disaster of a person.

She _did_ love Harry. But she could not deny that she loved Ron, too. Biting her lip harder than usual, she spared a sideways glance at Harry, who had leaned forward in anticipation to her response.

She had made the pros and cons lists – this was not the first time she had been forced to evaluate her feelings for her two boys against one another. Her feelings for Harry had been confusing her since that night he found her in that unlocked classroom and she had foolishly kissed him. Why had she _done_ that?

Furthermore, why had she made up some haphazard excuse to continue doing _that_?

Because she had liked it. Hadn't known what it meant, but had felt her heart swell with his concern for her feelings nonetheless. Ron had hurt her, like he always seemed to, and Harry had been the one to think of her, to seek her out, to find her. It had been that way between the three of them since the troll. Ron would make her cry. Ron would be too proud or careless to notice, or _do_ anything about it. Harry would come to rescue her from the emotional turmoil Ron had caused. Tale as old as time.

Why had that time been different? Was it like she had told Harry – that he was _there_ and they were both _miserable_ and she just wasn't _thinking_? Or was it because he was there, like he _always_ was and that they were miserable like they had been ever since finding out about the prophecy and that her body had had a revelation and had just neglected to inform the rest of her?

Ride or die. Harry and Hermione. Kissing him, the way he made her feel had surprised her… She had not counted on Harry ever being more than her best friend. Had always assumed that their unconditional concern for the others well-being was all that it was, they were each other's chosen family. But the way he had kissed her back, made her knees buckle and her body tremble…. She had not counted on that…

Then again, she had not counted on any of this…

And then there was Ron. Who might have been more thoughtless than Harry but who also had his tendencies towards fierce loyalty and comic relief. She knew that Ron loved her and Harry; that he would be there all the times that it counted. Didn't he always realize, eventually, when he had mucked things up? And he had never mucked things up as badly as Hermione had this time…

Ron, who made her laugh and was sweet and kind and well-meaning? Who had tried his best not to forget what was important when he thought she and Harry were dating these past weeks? He had grown, and he might be thick but he was still one of the two best friends she could have hoped to ask for.

Hermione resisted the tremendous sigh of frustration building inside of her. She could keep up her internal debate forever, but she _knew_ that it didn't matter. She _knew_ how she really felt about it – knew that as much as she loved sweet, endearing Ron that Harry had incited something so much deeper in her. Ride or die…

But how could she possibly say so aloud? How could she possibly ask either of them to forgive her for tugging at their heartstrings while she tried to suss out exactly how she felt? How could they ever be the Golden Trio when she knew that she was the cause of all the strife and turmoil between them, when she knew that all of this conflict would never really go away, no matter what resolution they reached? She had changed them irreversibly, and she hated herself for it.

The tense silence stretched out in front of her. Now or never. Moment of truth. Time to clean up after herself.

She inhaled sharply through her nose.

"I need you both to listen to me," she said, and, before Ron could interrupt, added, "Until I'm done. Until the end. I know I shouldn't ask so much more of either of you when I've already fucked up so badly, but _please_. I need you to listen."

Maybe it was because Hermione Granger swore so rarely or maybe it was because they had been stunned into silence before Hermione had even made her request, but they stayed. And they listened.

"I didn't mean for this to happen, I think part of me – most of me – knew it was a terrible idea, but I went along with it anyway because I was confused and… and… I couldn't bring myself to end it. I…" she trailed off. "I don't know where to begin."

Silence. Another deep breath.

"I love you both, as my dearest friends. I don't know… if either of you… I don't know what I would do if we weren't friends anymore." She felt her throat tightening, felt her voice crack. "The most important thing is helping Harry defeat V…Voldemort. It has to be, and no matter how you feel about me at the end of all this," she said, looking directly at Ron now, "I hope you'll at least stay by him. You're Harry's best mate, his first friend. I know that neither of us would be able to do it without you."

Ron could not seem to help himself now, his face puzzled and contemplative, as if in all their adolescent drama he had momentarily forgotten about Voldemort, but he seemed to know exactly where Hermione was heading. "Just spit it out, Hermione."

She was relieved that he didn't sound angry. But her heart broke at just how defeated he sounded.

"I didn't mean to, and I didn't realize at the beginning of all of this, and I care so much about you, Ron…" she involuntarily let out a small sob as her voice cracked. "But I'm in love with Harry, too."

She didn't know what she had been expecting, but Ron hissed an exhalation, slumping a little against the wall. And Harry looked nothing but a picture of surprise, eyebrows disappearing into his fringe, mouth slightly open, a visage of disbelief.

Nobody said anything and Hermione didn't know what else to do. There were no words to make it better. No way to fix it. No way that they could ever be the same again. Ron had paled considerably, but had not exploded in a red-faced tirade of anger, and Hermione dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, though they could never go back, that maybe they could all move forward together.

Ron rose abruptly and left. And Hermione promptly dissolved into tears. Harry might love her back, but she knew she didn't deserve it. Knew she had manipulated both of them, knew she might have irreparably damaged his friendship with his best friend, knew that she must not be that much of a consolation prize – they simply were not whole, not really, not unless there were three of them.

Harry put his arm around her.

"Do… do you really?" he asked.

She nodded tearfully.

He looked at her solemnly. "I'm glad you were so stupid, Hermione."

She was so shocked that she stopped crying, and couldn't even work herself up to be indignant. "G—glad?" she warbled in confusion.

"If you hadn't kissed me, if we hadn't… I don't know if I would have ever realized…" He broke off his sentence, and _looked_ at her in that same funny way he had when he had been staring at her weeks earlier and kissed her in that tender, wistful way. He put his hands on either side of her neck and just stared into her eyes until she was stunned into calmness. "I'm going to miss Ron, but if that means that I get to be with you…" he kissed her forehead. "I know that everything has gone wrong that possibly could, but Hermione, I'm just… I'm just so happy anyway. In spite of everything else. I… I love you, Hermione. And I just, I can't believe you love me, too."

And though she wasn't sure she would ever believe that she deserved it, if it made Harry so happy then she would just have to accept it. He kissed her and it was slow and languid and she felt herself melt into him. And then she understood – she couldn't help but be glad that she had been so stupid, too.

A/N: A few loose ends to tie up but we're nearly there now, folks. This could be a conclusion for those of you who like a little open-endedness, but there might also yet be a little hope for our Golden Trio…

Reviews accepted and appreciated, but not expected.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: The final chapter. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Summary: In which nothing is spoken but everything is said.

Ronald Weasley wasn't stupid. Thick at times? Perhaps. Unobservant? Most certainly. Stubborn? As a bloody mule. But unintelligent he was not, especially when it came to Harry and Hermione. During fourth year, for instance, when that bloody tournament had dredged up all those feelings of inadequacy and of being second best to his best mate, he had determined after some retrospective rumination that he had known that Harry would have never put his name in the Goblet of Fire. He knew that Harry hated being famous – it was not like he had done anything particularly worthy of merit. Just a baby in a crib, crying as his family was ripped from him, with the fortune – good or bad – not to die at the hands of psychopathic killer wizard. Harry had not chosen to be the hero, but he had assumed the role that Fate had chosen for him. The burden had been thrust upon his unassuming shoulders. Harry was The Chosen One. And for most of fourth year Ron had been a right git about it. And for what? Because there was nothing noteworthy he could do that hadn't already been done by his brothers?

Ron knew now that that was just a load of dragon dung. Bill had never gone after the Philosopher's Stone or defeated McGonagall's chess set. Charlie had never gone into the Chamber of Secrets to save his only sister. Percy would certainly never break into the Department of Mysteries and battle Death Eaters. Being Harry's friend was full of adventure and danger. And Ron did not doubt that the things he did with and for Harry were the most important and worthwhile things he could be doing. He figured that in a way he had been chosen, too. Harry, he liked to think, couldn't do it without him. Even if he was most of the time just the bloke who got Harry to laugh, or who allowed Harry some sense of normalcy with his griping about classwork and Quidditch and ugly dress robes. Harry was his best friend, and nothing was more important than lightening the load that weighed so heavily on him.

Yet it seemed to Ronald Weasley that he always had to sabotage it somehow. He could never be satisfied, even when he wanted so desperately to be. He wanted, at least once in his life, to be the most important person to _someone_. Ronald was deluded to have once thought that maybe Hermione could care for him in a way that she did not care for Harry – to have those coveted non-platonic feelings that Harry would never get from her. To have something separate from Harry, one thing in his life that didn't revolve around Harry.

But Ronald Weasley wasn't stupid. Willfully ignorant, maybe, but not stupid. There was nothing more important to Hermione Granger than Harry Potter – his life, his well-being, his happiness. She would do anything – set a professor's robes on fire, brew an illegal potion in the girl's lavatory, go back in time, spend all her free time researching and practicing spells, break into the Ministry of Magic – if it meant that Harry might survive all of this. She'd trap a journalist in a glass jar if it meant he could get a respite from the limelight. And maybe it did not start as romantic feelings for him. Ron at least suspected that Hermione had not always loved Harry in the way she had just professed to in that bloody classroom. But Hermione had always been the one to somehow know what Harry was thinking despite never studying Legilimency, and who had been the only one to get Harry to unlock the door in Grimmauld Place after Sirius's death. She would leave her family behind at Christmas if Harry needed her. Leave Hogwarts in the dust, forgo her N.E.W.T.S if Harry left, too. She'd follow him anywhere, Ron was certain, even to his death. Ron supposed that, unintentional as it was, there simply wasn't a big enough space for Ron to be what he wanted to be for Hermione that wasn't already occupied by Harry.

Would he and Hermione even be friends if it weren't for Harry? Wasn't he the glue that kept him and Hermione together? Except wasn't it also true that at this point they were all inextricably tied together? It didn't matter how. They simply were not whole if it wasn't the three of them all together. Or maybe now Harry and Hermione could get on fine without him… maybe they didn't need him after all, now that they had discovered that they loved each other. Hadn't they been getting on without him perfectly fine these past weeks while he had been letting Lavender Brown distract him with her tongue?

Ron loved Hermione Granger. He had never met anyone so brilliant, almost scarily so, while still being soft and empathetic. She was incalculably intelligent and hard-working, and also incalculably caring. She was so grounded and _human_. She was not without her faults, as he and Harry were certainly not without theirs, but she was so _good_. A light in the darkness. And she was beautiful. The way her brow furrowed when she was concentrating and the way she bit her lip when she was trying not to smile because she was supposed to be mad at him. She was so passionate and excited, and it was reflected in her eyes. And Ron had had the tremendous honor of kissing Hermione Granger, and knew how soft her lips were and how smooth her skin was under his large hands. He loved her. And she loved him.

But she loved Harry more. Ron was second best to Harry in the only place that really mattered. Damn the riches and the glory. Damn the honor and prestige. Damn it all, and give him Hermione Granger instead. It wasn't bloody fair, and worst of all it wasn't anybody's bloody fault. There was no one to blame. Harry was right, Hermione wasn't a prize for the taking. Harry didn't get everything it seemed like Ron had always wanted on purpose. Ron supposed in some way Harry's getting the girl was the great karmic universe making up for all the shit it had put Harry through. He deserved something good.

Even if Ron hadn't been a prat about Hermione, dancing around her all this time, he felt that their being together was probably inevitable. Harry and Hermione might well be meant to be.

Just, where did that leave him?

Did he stay? Even though it would hurt, every damn second of seeing them together? The empty, aching feeling in his chest would be a constant companion. He would be sentencing himself to a lifetime of torture – at times sharp and acute, at others a dull and constant throbbing.

Ron had abruptly left the room, but he had only closed the door before he slumped against it, sitting on the floor. He opened the door, slowly, and looked through the crack between the heavy, wooden door and the castle wall at the two most important people in his life. They were breaking apart from a kiss. Harry had this shit-eating grin across his face, smiling so wide his face might break, and his hands were resting gently on either side of Hermione's face. And Hermione was looking at him like she had never seen anything so wonderful. How could he ever get in the way of that?

Ron heard the door squeak and cringed as Harry and Hermione both turned towards him, smiles deflating as they saw him. There was a great palpable wave of silence; something unspoken hung in the air.

It stretched on until Harry reached out a hand for him while Hermione, smiling sadly, motioned him with a wave.

Harry and Hermione's mess was Ron's mess. It was their mess.

He hesitated, and then sat down next to them. Harry clapped him on the back and Hermione clasped one of his hands in both of hers.

They didn't say anything, didn't need to.

He wouldn't leave. Couldn't even if he wanted to. They simply were not whole if it wasn't the three of them.

A/N: You can certainly disagree if you want, but I thought the best way to clean up the mess was from Ron's point of view. I know he is a flawed character, and that certainly in the world of H/Hr fanfiction he is often vilified. But I think Ron is endearing and underappreciated.

A/N: Side note, for all of those who find Ron-bashing unpleasant I highly recommend Resistance by lorien829. Nowhere is there a characterization of Ron more dear to my heart.


End file.
